Wild Wolf

by Vimesenthusiast

Fed up with life in Nerima, Ranma runs away, only to be followed by Happosai, who has a magic scroll he want to try out. It works but Ranma suddenly finds himself in Westeros replacing the champion chosen by the old gods in a time of great peril for humanity. How will the world change with the Wild Wolf raised in the den of wolves? A lot. Thanks to Naj. P. Jackson for the picture.

19. Chapter 19

I do not own GRRM's work, or Ranma, more's the pity.

In regards to ATP, my ATP muse went head to head with my WW muse for what little free time I had this month, and lost. As such, I decided to postpone the ATP chapter until the Superbowl, or more accurately, the evening before (cross your fingers). While I have all of it's combat scenes written and the rest outlined that might be pushing it. And before anyone thinks of asking, no, the chapter for Horse for the Force did not slow me down, I had most of it written last month, there were just two scenes kicking my balls that had to be sorted out. Apologies to all those waiting for ATP, but that's the way the muse ran.

Thanks go to Antony444 for betaing, and for his work on finding grammar/minor mistakes.

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Chapter 19: Death's March, War's End, Wolf's Run

Fenris sniffed the air, his eyes glowing slightly in the darkness of the rain swept night. It was raining again here in this too warm place, but not enough, nowhere near enough to impede his sense of smell. Despite his chosen humans understanding of the difficulty that Fenris faced in trying to translate smells into what a human could understand, Ranma didn't really understand how much he was missing out in that translation.

It wasn't so much that Fenris had the best nose in all of the animal kingdom, which Ranma understood. Ranma knew Fenris was also intelligent, but he hadn't quite made that leap to understand how that intelligence would affect the direwolf's use of a direwolf's traditional senses. Fenris could not only smell everything within five kilometers of his current position, he could understand all of those scents as well.

A metal smell coming from a trap someone had laid in a farmstead nearby, the scent of human blood there mixed in with that of animals, the scent of fear and pain still wafting in the air. A normal direwolf would have smelled them all, but could not have understood what had occurred. Fenris did, and his lips rolled back in a snarl. Killing people he could understand, even these giant battles of pack versus pack that the humans seemed to be so enamored of. But killing the young? It was a very foolish punter that killed all of the young, else there wouldn't be more to hunt later on. And why humans preyed on their own kind was beyond him.

Moving on, Fenris was a black shadow in the night. Unseen and unheard he passed through the Riverlands hunting his prey. Eventually the prey had made for the wide undrinkable water which led to the crab place, causing Fenris to stop for a moment. The smell of tar, the smell of wood, wet wood from the rains and from the waters. But, there was also this scent of his prey.

Cautiously the direwolf circled the area around where the prey entered the wooden man-thing on the shore of the undrinkable water, making certain that this was not a trap, his nose raised high in the air to smell anything that could be construed as such. Unfortunately it wasn't. His quarry really had taken to the water.

But, Fenris thought in the way of his kind, a state somewhere between that of human and will direwolf, he did not enter the waters or swim in it himself. Fenris could still smell him on the wind, moving away over the water in the wooden thing.

With a whine that was far too close to a whimper for Fenris to ever admit to in company he began to move towards the water, cautiously swimming out to where his feet could no longer touch the bottom. He hadn't swum often, but it was something his siblings and he had done occasionally. The waves were a bit of an issue, but Fenris was strong enough to deal with it for now. And the scent was still in the air, the betrayer, one of those responsible for his pampered sibling's death. Such needed to be addressed by family after all, and any hardship he had to face in doing so was worth it.

OOOOOOO

It had finally happened, and Eddard still found himself quailing inside despite having prepared himself for this for over a year now. The forces of the Great Enemy had returned, and now they had to respond to this threat. He looked across his desk at Maester Luwin, whose face had paled considerably upon reading the message he'd brought in from the raven's tower. "So, they've completely bypassed the Wall."

"I did not think that was possible my Lord," said the maester. "From what little I've studied of magic, the White Walker's magic cannot cross water, so how do they do it?""

"In the end however how they got to Skagos is immaterial to the fact that they now have a forward base on the flank of our strongest defense against them, where, I don't have to remind you, much of our mobile forces have already been sent. The North lies open, and we need to prepare."

He leaned back for a brief moment, closing his eyes, suddenly happy that Sansa was probably leaving White Harbor at that moment, or might have already. She'd be down in the South in Riverrun well away from this soon enough, and distance might well protect Sansa better than walls or armies. It was an odd thought, but Eddard actually thought for a moment of sending his remaining family south, possibly to Lord Flint of Flint's Finger, or Lord Reed and Greywater Watch. But none of them would go, and it was but a fleeting thought.

With a shrug remarkably like his children's direwolves, Eddard the father receded, and Eddard Stark returned. He opened his eyes, staring hard into his maester's eyes. "Get out your pen and parchment my friend, we have orders I need to send out."

"I have them here my Lord." Luwin said simply, holding up the writing implements, and a small slate of wood behind the parchment, smiling thinly.

"These first messages will be for House Flint of Widow's Watch, Woolfield, Umber, Manderly, and Hornwood. The message is as follows: 'My Lords, the Great Enemy has risen once again, as my son and his friends warned us at the moot in Winterfell, but from a direction none could have seen. Somehow they have gotten around the wall, taken Skagos, and might even now be landing on the shores of the Bay of Seals.'

'Therefore you are ordered to pull all of your smallfolk back to your castles or send them further south. I care not if they want to move, they are to be forced if necessary. Abandon their farms, their holdfasts, anything! Remember that these enemies will not feel pain, will not fear death, and may well keep coming in the face of casualties that would break any human army.'

'Furthermore we do not know the full extent of the Great Enemy's own magical abilities. On a similar vein, you are to be on the lookout for any particularly handsome man or beautiful woman whose skin is pale like porcelain and cold to the touch. They have apparently used the same trick they used on the Night's King in days of yore, and may use it again.'

'I want it understood my Lords, that we are trading land for time. Until sufficient weapons arrives in White Harbor, we must give way to this attack, holding those castles that we can without them, but giving ground everywhere else.'

"End it there and give it to me to sign for the Lords Flint, Woolfield, Umber, and Hornwood. Then add an addendum to the one for Lord Manderly, telling him he is to use his own discretion in the distribution of the dragonglass weapons when they come in. I expect that by the time the Lysene pirate arrives the places those weapons need to go will have shrunk." Eddard finished grimly.

"My Lord, what about a message back to Karhold?" Luwin asked, frowning slightly at that oversight.

Eddard sighed deeply. "Torrhen knows his duty, and Theon is there. I don't think they'll be able to hold, but I trust both of those young men to realize that, and began to retreat as they can. Besides, they have the river Sunstreamthere. They could be able to get all the way down to Widow's Watch or further by sea."

"No, Nothing I can say or do will affect that battle, I will simply send Torrhen a message in my own hand entirely, commanding them to do what they see best, and may the Old Gods aid them." He sighed deeply then shook his head. "Set those aside now if you finished with that, you can copy the messages later. I have more orders."

Maester Luwin nodded his pen in his hand, and Eddard went on as the man pulled out a fresh piece of parchment. "This is to go to House Mormon, House Ryswell, House Cerwyn, House Glover and Tallhart. 'Attached to this message my Lords, you will find the message relayed to me about the events on Skagos. If the Great Enemy was able to get to Skagos, Bear Island is also a target, or even more so since your House Lady Mormont, is known as a true vassal of the North, whose loss would weaken us all."

He went on, trusting Maester Luwin to remember not to send that last portion to all the other Lords without being told. "'To that end, I Eddard Stark acting for your Lord Paramount my son Brandon, and our King Ranma Stark, command House Ryswell, and Glover to send half your remaining infantry and archers to reinforce Bear Island. It cannot be allowed to fall if it is attacked.' Correct me if I'm wrong, but that should give Maege Mormont around 4500 or so to add to her own forces?"

"Hmmm… less my Lord, remember House Ryswell doesn't have that much infantry, and Glover and Tallhart are masterly houses for a reason, their lands can't support as many men as a great House." This was because Tallhart was based in a Torrhen's Square, a fishery and lumber center, and Glover's property was situated on the shore of the Bay of Ice between it and the Wolfswood, a hardscrabble area that couldn't produce enough food to maintain a large population. I think at best 2,900 my Lord, and that will leave Deepwood Motte and Torren's Square without infantry at all. But Lady Mormont should be able to make up the numbers."

"It will have to do, and the Mormont clan knows Bear Island better than any, I imagine they will make any invasion pay dearly. However, make a note that they are to receive at least half of the first shipment of dragonglass arrowheads and weapons once they arrive in White Harbor."

"My Lord, transportation from Winterfell to Bear Island will be atrociously slow, I am uncertain that that is a wise move." Luwin cautioned.

Eddard thought for a moment, calculating travel times. It was true that if he sent those weapons that way, the North might feel the need for them on the other front well before they arrived at Bear Island. "Very well, you're right travel time would be bad."

"The next part is for Lord Ryswell alone." Maester Luwin nodded and Eddard went on. "My Lord I ask you to send half of your remaining light cavalry to reinforce Lord Hornwood. I myself and House Cerwyn will be sending men to reinforce Hornwood and the Last Hearth."

His own and his direct neighbor's forces Eddard had a much better grasp of than those of the other noble Houses. House Stark had barely sent fifty of its trained armsmen with the army, having instead sent the Pike regiment, which had been raised from the smallfolk for the most part, with only its officers and troop leaders coming from their armsmen. This meant that House Stark retained around 1,600 men here in Winterfell despite having sent men up to the Wall. And most of the minor Houses from House Stark lands had also not send their men away. With them he would be able to raise another 1,800 or so.

He looked over at the Wull, who had been silent up to this point despite Eddard having included him in this conference. "Will you send some of your men with mine my friend?"

"To hold the Last Hearth or Hornwood? Aye." the other man said with a grim nod. Since he and most of his people had arrived in Wintertown, they had been treated like honored subjects, and all of his men had received the steel weapons that House Stark was making now.

"Good, but we won't split your men. I think that the Great Enemy will strike first at the Last Hearth; Hornwood is far much further south than the Last Hearth or Karhold. We can't get to Karhold to aid House Karstark, but, we can use the White Knife and the canal from Long Lake to send aid to House Umber. I want 1,400 men on the road within the week, half of which will be your men and mine, the rest will be made up of men from the nearest minor houses. I'll be sending messages to my minor lords and telling them to pull back from their holdfasts to join us here with their people at the same time."

The Wull frowned for a moment. He was not a man at home with numbers, but some numbers were important to the survival of his people, and paramount among those was the number of warriors on hand at any given time. "I can send around 400, that'll leave me here with 300, but that's the most I can send. If I try to send more my warriors will object, fearing that we won't have enough strength on hand to defend our womenfolk."

"Understandable," Eddard nodded. He knew that wasn't an insult to his House or their generosity, since guest rights was inviolate. It was simply a bred in the bone response from the clans: they needed to keep enough men home to defend their lands and their families. "Besides, I wouldn't've wanted you to send more. Sooner or later, the Great Enemy will attack here as well, and we might need all the help we can get by that point."

"My Lord," Maester Luwin asked hesitantly. "What of warning the Houses south of the Neck? I have ravens trained to all the Lord Paramount Houses, as well as a few more in the Vale…"

The Wull scoffed, waved his hand at Eddard who nodded and watched the man leave before turning to Maester Luwin. The Wull of course did not care for any southerners and that was without taking into account the fact that a war down there had pulled most of the North's strength well out of position to deal with the real threat.

"We will send such messages yes, but I doubt that anything will come of them. Still, send a message to Riverrun first, mark it as urgent as you possibly can. I'm certain the maester there can get a messenger to my son wherever he and his army is. We need that army back here as soon as possible, whatever is going on south. For now however, there are other messages to send to Locke, Reed, and Barrowton."

Later that day Eddard composed the last message to be sent out that day, the one copied and sent south. This was a much shorter message as long distance ones had to be, composed of only four sentences. 'My fellow Lords Paramount, my son, and any who receive this message, the Great Enemy has returned and found a way around the Wall. Even now their forces march on the lands of men. The White Walkers are here my Lords, it is time to set aside our differences for Westeros must stand as one lest we die separately." Attached to the message sent to Riverrun was a copy of the message Eddard had received from Torrhen Karstark.

One last raven left late that night, leaving Winterfell's Maester's Tower emptier than it had been in centuries. But this one was sent to the Wall and the commander of the Night's Watch, warning them to prepare for attacks from behind, especially at Eastwatch-By-the-Sea.

That evening while his wife fell asleep after spending most of the day in the sept praying, Eddard left, heading into the godswood. He remained there for some time, sending his thoughts out to Jon and Ranma. "We have run out of time my sons."

OOOOOOO

The White Walker's influence spread from their new stronghold on the shore of the Bay of Seals. Undead began to rise as far south as the start of former House Bolton lands within two weeks of their arrival on the shore. Cemeteries and former battlefields became disturbed as the dead clawed their way out of the earth, answering the call of the Great Enemy to once more take to their feet and deal death to those still living. But this was a mere sideshow for now to where the true power of the Great Enemy would land.

OOOOOOO

In his reading room Rodrick Harlaw sat silent for the most part while Asha relayed all that she had seen in the battle of the Straits, as well as what had happened to her since. Asha held nothing back, including what she had seen and found in that hidden cave, the proof of what Lord Kenning had only hinted at.

While Rodrick was a skeptic about anything smacking of the mystical realm he had not interrupted her, nor had he called in the guards to have her thrown from the tower as worshipers of the Storm God should be according to the Drowned God followers. In truth there weren't many of those, most of the Ironborn espoused views that followed the Drowned God's ways, but what they really worship was the Old Way itself rather than the god.

Yet even that has taken a pounding recently, Rodrick thought to himself smiling sardonically, though carefully hiding the expression from Asha. She was in no mood to see the humor in anything, the loss of her beloved ship of every man aboard it weighed heavily on her.

The Iron Islands have lost so much manpower, there aren't one in twenty raiders left alive, and without them, the tradition of raiding, of paying the Iron Price may well fade, at least in its present format. If we can retain some of the islands it might grow again, but that's doubtful. Our longships themselves have been shown to be inferior now to the war galleys of the Greenlanders, so much for our pride.

"So I want you to pull your ships back from anything but defending Harlaw. Even the Straits between Harlaw are to be left to the enemy. Those shorelines are cliff faces so we can post a few archers there and use the ships that were patrolling that area to reinforce elsewhere."

Hearing that, the Reader came back to the here and now shaking his head slightly. "I'd already pulled back my few remaining ships to guard the ports of my island Asha," He said mildly. "There aren't enough left of us to fight the Westerlands war galleys. They're never separate, they always move in groups of four, and their captains have learned to keep the range open no matter what tricks ours try to employ. They patrol the ports they've taken on Pyke, and they guard the troop ships coming from Banefort. That trip is too short and too well guarded to let us raid them."

"I haven't heard anything about what's been going on the mainland, are we facing the entire Westerlands army invading us now?" Asha asked sitting down at last as she ran out of energy to pace.

"We are not. My few remaining factors on the mainland say that there isn't a real Westerlands army left, at least not one that represents the totality of the Westerlands. Indeed, from the latest bit of news the Westerlands as an entity might also be gone. The Starks destroyed the Lannisters in the open field, and smashed the Westerlands cohesion. I'm not certain how they did that second, but the March of the Wolf King has become a rather popular song in the bars down by the port."

"I heard it when we came in, I thought it was propaganda! Who would've thought that old bastard of a lion would be killed by the young wolf? Still, that doesn't answer my question. If those troop transports aren't bringing in troops, what are they doing?"

"Bringing far deadlier goods my dear. Weapons and food."

Asha frowned for a moment, but the Reader did not enlighten her, simply staring at her silently. Eventually she nodded her eyes widening at the implication. "They're arming the thralls aren't they? By the Storm God's spleen and fury, they're going to arm a thrall rebellion!"

"Pyke is gone." Said Rodrick shrugging his shoulders. "Your father didn't leave many fighting men behind across its entire length, and what there was gathered at Lordsport in an attempt to stave off the invaders. Now that news has spread throughout the rest of the island that the invaders are willing to arm the thralls and help them gain some revenge, Houses on every island are rebellion now, which will only get worse when the Lannisters transport their new allies from Pyke on to the others."

"And what about here?"

"Harlaw has never had that many thralls, not in comparison to Great Wyk, where they are treated as disposable thanks to the mines of House Goodbrother. We were the bread basket of the iron islands as you well know, and farming is at least somewhat less deadly than mining. The fact my father and I passed laws forcing thralls to be treated well, and that their women could no longer be used as salt wives, have also helped, as have our treatment of blacksmiths and other tradesmen whose skills make them valuable. Alas, that simply became one more reason for the other islands to look down on us as soft." Rodrick smiled thinly. "The Lannister will never be able to gain popular support here, but the other islands?"

"So we sacrifice them." Asha said grimly nodding her head.

"Agreed, as I said we don't have the ships or the troops." Rodrick barked a laugh. He'd never forgiven Balon Greyjoy for exiling Alannys back to Harlaw when her mind broke after the deaths of their two oldest sons. Both young men, poisoned by Balon's faith in the Old Way, died in Balon's first attempt at rebellion. Balon had never treated her well, and sent her home after her mind cracked, and had been rutting with any woman he could capture since. "I find it the height of irony is that your father's adherence to the Old Way has possibly destroyed it for all time."

"I can't say I'm entirely unhappy about that outcome either." Asha said. "But you realize that leaves me with not much in the way of power base? Frankly I bet many of your minor lords will question why you're even listening to me, at least until I bring out my little present."

"You have me and my House." Rodrick replied simply. "You're not your father, you have never acted preciously, and you have always been far more intelligent than the average captain of the Ironborn. You would make a good queen."

"Lady Paramount." Asha said with a shake of her head. "If that. I'm afraid our independence will be at an end whatever happens. Still, I am happy that I have your support."

"Always my dear." Rodrick said smiling at the girl he regarded as a daughter. "Always."

Her face hardened noticeably. "Good, because I doubt the differences between Harlaw and the other Islands will occur to the Greenlanders. They'll come against us here eventually. When they do, I mean to show them that taking Harlaw will cost them far, far more than they are willing to pay." She smiled thinly, tapping the pack next to her lightly, causing it to rustle with a metallic clank.

OOOOOOO

Oberyn smiled faintly as the scandalized servant left him alone in Lady Taena Merryweather's room. "I think you've scandalized her servants magnificently my dear."

"That would be we have my Lord Oberyn." The woman said sultrily, gesturing to a table which was already laden with small delicacies and fruit. "It takes two to create a scandal after all."

"It takes two to do many things." Oberyn said gently caressing her rear through her conservative, yet strangely provocative dress as he moved past her. While he was here to get information, that didn't mean he needed to be in a rush about it, now did there?" Especially when the wench is so obviously willing. "But before that, business I'm afraid."

Taena Merryweather of Longtable nodded, pouring them both goblets of wine and holding one out to him it in both hands. Oberyn chuckled, taking it from her and lifting it lightly in salute before sniffing at the wind and then taking a slow long sip, his eyes never leaving hers.

But when he set it down however, he was back to business. "The news my lady."

"There is quite a lot of news actually. The latest from up further north, is that the two Baratheon brothers faced one another and the younger came out the loser. You've probably heard rumors about that and the burning of King's Landing already?" Oberyn nodded and she went on more grimly. "They're true. Stannis now controls the remaining Reach forces up there, and burned King's Landing to the ground using some kind of magic from his Red Witch, purportedly to combat the spread of a plagues. Have you heard of her before?"

"We've heard rumors of that before we set out from Sunspear. But the rumors are true?"

"Yes. And that isn't the only sign that magic that has returned though I'll get to that in a moment. Stannis apparently received word about both your depredations and the assaults the Ironborn have been making, you know of those?" Oberyn nodded again, and Taena smiled and went on. "Much of the Mander below Oldflowers has been given over to the Ironborn, for several leagues away from the river unfortunately."

Taena shook her head frowning a little. "Honestly, I need don't know why the Ironborn are continuing to raid as they are, their numbers aren't very large, and I would've thought that even those raping murderous bastards would've had their fill of raiding for now and returned back to their islands, if for no other reason than to drop off their booty. But they haven't. It's as if they're gripped with some kind of, of madness. And that's not even considering what's happening on the Arbor."

"Pity," said Oberyn, holding the goblet up to the light of the window behind her. "Whatever will Westeros do for wine without the Arbor to call upon?"

That statement showed what little concern Oberyn had for people of any realms save his brothers, he was here for vengeance that was all. Nothing else mattered and nothing would get in his way. Well, that and putting Viserys on the throne I suppose, though I'd rather be facing Stannis myself than simply causing so much chaos down here as to force him to split his army. He's known as a mighty warrior, but I'd bet my spear and its little surprise would see him off quickly enough.

For all her self-control Taena almost looked taken aback at his attitude, but controlled it quickly. "S-so, Lord Stannis knew of your depredations and those in the Ironborn, and sent a force under Lord Caron to retake the Mander and work with the Marcher Lords to crush you. Another force passed by here on the Mander several months ago under Ser Garlan Tyrell. He was heading down to Oldtown to join with the remnants of the Redwyne fleet to retake the Arbor. It's rumored that he arrived just in time to save his sister at her stand at the Castle of Oldflowers."

"I've heard that from a few of my armies… guests. Though I also heard something else, something about miracles aiding him on his way?"

The woman shivered a little, turning away from him for a moment before looking back. "Some say that the Seven have been at work my Lord. Seven miracles guided Garlan on his way, and since then the crops have been bountiful and coming in far more quickly than they should be, so much so that many Houses now have a surplus. There are tales of fallow fields springing to life and blooming all in the space of a month."

"The septons are all all saying that it's a sign that we should be backing Daenerys Targaryen and Ranma Stark. They've been saying that for months, and it's taking in the smallfolk's admittedly limited minds. You won't find any aid among them, nor will Viserys if he wins through."

Which is frankly doubtful to my mind, the spymistress added internally. But she was a consummate spy, able to play off all sides against one another for her own ends. Right now Oberyn was right in front of her, so she had to play the good Martell spy, as she had previously played the part of Varys' loyal spy or Petyr's agent.

"I see." Oberyn said with a frown. "Still, unless they intervene directly in the battle I can't see anyone caring overmuch. As for Viserys, I 've no doubt he'll be smart enough to keep out of any large-scale battle until the Starks and the Baratheon's wear each other down."

He leaned back frowning thoughtfully. His job was to hurt the Reach and the Stormlands, do as much damage both to their farmlands and fighting ability as he could. Bryce Caron, hmm from what I remember he's young, untried as a commander but well thought of. A summer knight with a bit more sword skill than most, but no real knowledge of how to lead in battle. Excellent. "Where is Lord Caron's force now?"

"Unlike Garlan, Bryce never thought of using the Mander to hasten his journey my Lord, he has followed the Roseroad. The highway however dips westward quite a ways. He crossed Bitterbridge about a month or so ago I think, so he should be halfway between there and high guarded by this point, possibly as match as two thirds of the way.

"Well out of the way of any assault along the Mander then. Or…" Oberyn frowned for a moment, thinking. "What are the defenses of Cider Hall like at present? And are there any bridges over the Mander between here and Cider Hall?"

"The defense of Cider Hall is in good shape. Lord Fossoway left several knights behind, along with the majority of his trained archers to hold the walls. Lady Fossoway has been meticulous in bringing in smallfolk and preparing the castle since word of your assaults along the Blue Byrn reached this area."

Oberyn cocked his head and eyebrow at her, causing Taena to smile thinly, shrugging her shoulders. "One of her ladies in waiting reports to me my Lord, she is not a dedicated spy, merely a gossiper who thinks of me in the same manner. I asked her to look at her lady's response to this current crisis because I needed advice but did not want to outright ask for it for pride's sake and the little idiot believed me."

That was actually the way Taena got most of her news: by being known as a gossiper, and talking to others of similar bent. There was nothing wrong with gossip after all, especially considering that she really had followed through with her idea of following Lady Fossoway's lead in preparing Longtable. Of course Longtable was not a very strong castle, and the lands around it were not as rich in terms of population as the area around Cider Hall, but she had done what she could.

Of course that was before she opened her gates to Lord Oberyn and a small entourage from his army, which was still camped in the sacked keep of House Cockshaw. None of them were wearing tabards or anything that could mark them out as from the invading army, the news of whose presence had spread.

"As to whether there is a bridge or not between here and there, there's one of the main ones on the Mander, it's quite wide and made of stone. It will easily accommodate your army's crossing, though I have to ask why you would be crossing in the first place."

"I don't want to have to fight my way through Fossoway territory as you seem to indicate we'd have to. Simply following the Mander down from here would force me to come within bow range of Cider Hall, which my army does not have the discipline to simply take and ignore."

"You realize if you cross the river, you will probably run into Lord Bryce eventually? He'll hear of your coming through the smallfolk and the septons, and turn aside before reaching Highgarden. "

"If he does we'll defeat him in the open, but if he doesn't we'll take him from behind as he is making for Highgarden. There's no better time to ambush someone then when he sees his target in sight."

"And what of Lord Willas? News from Goldengrove indicates he's arrived there, and is preparing river barges to carry him back down to Highgarden. You might also face him in battle." Taena objected.

That made Oberyn hesitate for a moment. Despite the hatred their families were supposed to hold for one another, he and Willas had been firm friends for several years. A fact that broke through his need to keep going, to burn and make the Reach suffer as his family had. "I, I will cross that bridge when I come to it. After I take Bryce from behind, I'll turn immediately northward on the Rose Road towards the Crownlands. Viserys will no longer need my army's aid eventually in that campaign."

We'll cross the Mander, then fall upon Bryce, that young fool won't know what hit him. Then we'll burn the lands between here and there, which should sake my army's lust for blood, booty and fire for a time, before turning north. I just hope the young idiot really is smart enough to stay away from direct clashes for now. His black beast might be larger than most of the breed, but it's still young, so isn't as tough or dangerous as Viserys probably thinks.

"Now," he said setting the glass aside and reaching for Taena's hand bringing it to his lips. "I believe that business is concluded, unless you have any other information for me?" Oberyn spent the rest of the day rutting with Taena in her marriage bed. He wasn't the first she had welcomed to it behind her husband's back, but Oberyn felt a thrill as he always did in moments like this. He left as the sun was setting, satiated for now in more ways than one.

Behind him Lady Taena stood at her window frowning as she watched him go, tapping one finger against her thigh thoughtfully wincing occasionally. Oberyn had been a passionate lover but not a gentle one, and she would have to wear high neck dresses with long sleeves for quite a few days until the bruises healed. But that wasn't what she was thinking of. What she was thinking of was the fact that the Seven had returned, and seemed to be backing Lady Margaery, Willas, and through them Ranma Stark and his wife. She was thinking about that and the rumors of another army marching down to the Mander from the northwest, one with the banners of House Stargaryen flying overhead.

She owed Lord Doran quite a lot, without his little monetary gifts Taena would not have been able to keep herself in the creature comforts that she had become used to in Myr and without his aid certain indiscretions of her own might've come to light. And yet, and yet the gods are pointing the way, and frankly I don't think Viserys has any chance in the Stranger's Hell against Stannis or Ranma Stargaryen in the open field.

No, I need to make a decision based on what I think is the main chance here and now. And I didn't like what I saw in Oberyn's eyes. Those are the eyes of a man who has become so accustomed to violence and death. So much so that he has lost sight of his real goal, of anything but the next battle, the next slaughter, much like the mercenaries under his command. It faded slightly when I mentioned Willas, but it came back with a vengeance when I spoke of Lord Caron and his army. Worse, if he marches over the bridge on the Mander, that'll take him directly into the heartland that feeds half of Westeros, which would be a disaster. And I don't think he even cares.

She stood for several more moments before sighing and ringing a small bell. I'm sorry Doran, you've been good for me, but I think that the Stargaryen's star is on the rise, and I mean to jump on the cart now.

Her trusted lady-in-waiting, a Myrish woman who had been with her long before her marriage to her oaf of a husband entered, bowing slightly averting her eyes from her mistress so as not to see the signs of her recent indiscretions. "Get me a few of my long neck and long-sleeved gowns to pick from Misera, then after you've helped me dress, I'll need to inform the master I'll be needing two raven's prepared. One for Highgarden, and one for Bitterbridge I believe."

OOOOOOO

All was silent in the Commander Mormonts office of Castle Black for a moment after Jeor Mormont read out the message from Winterfell. It was not so much a contemplative silence, though there was contemplation going on. No, this silence was more shock and fear driven than anything else. As ready as many of these men had been, as respectful as they had started to become towards the threat of the White Walkers, they had all assumed that they would have to attack the Wall head on. Learning they would face assault from another direction was a severe blow.

Tyrion broke the silence, shaking his head as if he was throwing off a blow. "Lord Eddard's right. They will be coming for the Wall as well as pressing out elsewhere. What can we do to fortify our defenses from attacks coming from south of us?"

"Quite a bit actually," said Commander Mormont coming out of his stupor from the news quickly now that someone had started the ball rolling. "There's a reason the Night's King was able to hold against the powers of the wildlings and the North for so long. First, we'll have to choose which castles to keep fortified, and which to abandon and break down. If we don't fortify them, we cannot allow any castle's staircase or elevator to remain connecting them to the Wall."

"If they came from Skagos, then Eastwatch-By-the-Sea is the most threatened," Growled Mors Umber. Shaking his shaggy head he rose to his feet with a creak of his old bones. "I'll head back now, best ta get a jump on forting up."

"You do that my friend, however I think we also need to realize that our lines of supply may well be broken soon there whatever we do. After all, the Bay of Seals itself might freeze, and once it does, no ships, going to be able to get through. I'll want hunting parties out every day until we sight White Walkers to bring in fodder for the castles. Also I want messages to go out to all of the smallfolk that have moved into the gift. They're to pull up stake and join us here on the Wall. Castle Black and the others we keep open will have enough room to house them, though that means our supplies won't last as long."

"Bear Island and Westwatch." said Kyle, frowning heavily. "Maybe we can set something up there had to bring in supplies from Bear Island?"

The mountain clansmen frowned looking at one another but nodded. "Until we're under attack up there, we can bring in supplies over the mountains, though it'll be slow goin'."

Tyrion frowned. "It'll have to do. We should start rationing immediately I think, the better to force our supplies to last longer, and keep it up when the smallfolk start arriving. But I think all we'll be able to do is hold on here until the North pushes this incursion back."

"Easier said than done." scoffed Qhorin Halfhand. "I don't mean to demean the courage of the Northerners my lords, but we know the King and much of the North's army is down south. It would take them months to get back at best, even if Lord Ranma started out the moment he heard the news, and we all know that there's still a war going on down there."

"I wish I could say different." said Tyrion honestly. "My older sister's bit of madness couldn't have come at the worst time for humanity as a whole." He smiled suddenly. "Or should I say former sister hmm?"

"Enough." said Commander Mormont shaking his head. "Deal with what we can here, leave the rest to the king and his men." He looked around all at them all and nodded towards Tyrion. "Giantkiller, I'm giving you the command of speaking to the wildlings. They have Two days more to come to a decision to join us or be left out in the cold. We need their manpower, but if we can't get it I'm not willing to keep Castle Black's tunnel open for longer than that. Just because the White Walkers might be coming at us from further south doesn't mean they won't also be coming at us straight north. It's what I'd do if I was them."

"That won't be much of a hardship." Tyrion said, smiling slightly as he remembered the frankly gorgeous young woman who led the wildlings now with her two advisors. Those advisors might have some say, but Val was the driving force among them.

Commander Mormont nodded then turned to Kyle and Harrion. "My lords, I want any of your men with carpentry or stonework skills to join those from the Order. They will move into Eastwatch. I want them to look into the idea of somehow setting up a pulley and winch system down to the Gorge. If we can do that, bringing up cargos along the river might be possible. If not, I want Eastwatch as fortified as we can make it. I'll have my own men with skills in that area working here in Castle Black, while I decide what other castles we should keep intact."

The two men exchanged a worried glance. There were at least 40 leagues of gorge between Westwatch and the Bay of Ice. Traversing that far by boat would be incredibly hard, and dangerous too. Even if men could be found to pilot such boats, the size of the shipments would be small by necessity. And Deepwood Motte was no White Harbor. But still there was nothing they could do about that, if Eastwatch was cut off they were in for it anyway. So both men simply nodded, and the meeting went on from there.

OOOOOOO

The mass exodus of smallfolk from the lands near the Bay of Seals and further south on the eastern front was a slow process, with many families not truly realizing the danger and simply trying to bring everything they could with them rather than push for speed. Several dozen such families from the northeastern portion of Umber land had joined together to make a caravan, moving down through former Bolton land heading towards Hornwood rather than the Last Hearth or Karhold. It was a long journey, but the folk making the decisions for the caravan felt that Hornwood was a safer bet.

The nights are getting even colder thought Robett, one of the men assigned to guard the camp, as he stared out into the dark beyond the fires of the camp. Those fires were burning low now, they hadn't taken the time to gather much fuel for them that day.

He shivered. Old God's damn it, it was cold. In fact, it was colder now then it had been a few moments ago. Don't be stupid, Robett thought, shaking his head. That's just your imagination. The temperature can't drop that quickly. Can it?

Robett's thoughts cut off abruptly. What is that? In the deep of the woods on the south side of camp he had seen a blue light of some kind. It was there for just a moment and then it was gone but Robett could've sworn it was there. He saw another light a few moments later, but then there was nothing for several candles, and he put the lights out of his mind, concentrating on staying awake and alert.

It was nearly the end of his shift and the fires of the camp and burned to nothing when the lights were back with a vengeance. He turned to shout something, only for a hand with long, thin fingers to clamp over his mouth. Those fingers were longer than a human's should've been he noted in that brief second and then something sharp slammed into his back, then he knew no more.

Screams abounded through the night, while a family consisting of three members, a mother, a teenage daughter and a young boy burst out of their tent. Their names were James, Nira, and Fiera. They had been sharing a tent and indeed a blanket together to share warmth, but the cold had woken them up, and then the screams had started.

None of the fires were still lit, making sight difficult in the dark of the night, with only the stars and a half moon above them to light the scene. But there was a strange eerie glow of blue here and there, and that was enough to see the beings moving through the camp.

They stood taller than most men by at least a good foot. But they were thin, almost emaciated looking in their faces and arms, which were visible from the shoulder down, which was strange considering how cold it was. All they seemed to wear was armor, black armor with spikes showing here and there, small ones in various patterns and larger ones on their shoulders. It gleamed in the faint light from their eyes and from the moon in a way that made it look more like dark ice then steel, but not quite.

Nearby the boy saw his father charging one of them roaring a battle cry, bringing his axe around in a sideways blow that should've taken the attacker off his feet at least if he had been able to block it at all. For just a moment the overwhelming fear that had gripped James and his sister the moment the screams began faded and they shouted together "Go father!"

But the creature was able to interpose it's blade between that attack and his own body. It was still knocked off its feet but was very much alive, and it rolled the blow, coming up hissing something in a language that sounded foul to James' ears.

The two exchanged several dozen blows, but then to the man's surprise his axe shattered after another exchange of blows. The steel of it had been frozen so much that it was brittle enough to shatter like glass. But his surprise didn't last long, because the creature's sword came back, cutting his neck and head off in a welter of blood.

James shouted "No!" but had enough presence of mind to grab his mother and big sister's hands and try to pull them away. Both of them were staring in shock at their father and husband lying there dead, but James knew he had to get them away quickly before whatever that thing was could turn on them.

His mother suddenly shrieked, her hands going up to her face breaking James's grip on her wrist as an arrow hit her cheek, going through the skin there and out the other side. She looks down at her children, gritting her teeth to keep the pain at bay as something dark and vile began to make its way through her system. "Run! Run!" With that she reached down, grabbed up a hatchet that had fallen from somewhere and turned, shrieking towards her husband's killer.

The two children ran, somehow escaping the camp for a moment, but as they raced on through the words they could hear someone pursuing them. James let go of his sister's hand, reaching down grabbing up a large cob of wood. "Keep going!" he shouted, "keep going!" Nira looked at him, and he shook his head. "Run! They can't catch us both!"

Nira nodded, her eyes wide and frightened but determined. She leaned down quickly, kissing him on the cheek. "May the old gods keep you brother."

Then she barreled off through the woods in a different direction, making as much noise as she could which James noticed after moment. He scowled angrily realizing that she was trying to draw their pursuer after her but with a growl he took off in a different direction hoping that one of them at least would survive.

It was not to be. Through the forest James could hear his sister scream, the sound cut off abruptly. And suddenly all around him he saw lights, small blue lights. He stopped running, putting his back against a tree, raising his makeshift weapon. "S-stay back!" he shouted, trying to sound as brave as his father had been. "Stay back!" And failing.

They came out of the woods, several of the same creatures that had slain his father. They did indeed stand taller than a man, with long pointed features almost like a foxes, complete with pointed ears. Their hair was uniformly white and wispy, falling to their shoulders, glimmering disturbingly in the light of their eyes, which glowed a pale, somehow sickly blue. Their thin lips were curved into cruel sneers as they saw the young boy in front of them.

James snarled and rushed towards one of them, raising his makeshift weapon with a cry. "Rahgg!"

One of them laughed, saying something to another in that strange hissing language then negligently flicked his blade, smacking the cob of wood from James' hands.

At this his bravery deserted James, and he fell to his knees, staring up at them. "Please!" he said, praying for something to save him, or simply for these creatures to go away. "Please, mercy!"

One of them leaned down, his thin, alien face almost directly against James'. "Please, mercy?" It said in common.

"Please," James said tears of grief, pain, fear and shame running down his face. "Please, mercy."

He gasped and screamed as something barbed wickedly slammed into his stomach, and he was hoisted into the air above the creatures head. "Please mercy!" it said, laughing as it imitated the words, and soon the others took up the chant, thrusting their own barbed blades up into the boy's body where it hung from the first one's blade. "Please mercy, please mercy!" They chanted, laughing all the while as the young boy died on their blades.

Several leagues distant, a wight horde thousands strong marched through the night, with a large majority of the creatures the White Walkers had suborned on Skagos. Above them, two undead dragons flew through the night on silent wings, their target, and that of the army below them several weeks journey south.

OOOOOOO

"No Old God's damnit!" Torrhen said growling angrily at Theon as they sat at his family's table in the dining hall, while all around them the noise of the meal continued. "This is my family's seat! I fully agree that the holdfasts and other minor houses should be evacuated, but this is a castle! Furthermore, we've spent months preparing it for a siege, we can hold out for years! I don't care what forces the White Walkers can bring against us, so long as we have men to man the walls we will defend Karhold!"

Theon glared angrily at the other young man, while Lady Karstark remained silent, her face showing her uncertainty. The last of the smallfolk and minor lords from the lands around Karhold had arrived that day, carrying tales of undead having risen from family graveyards. Thankfully there weren't many people on the Karstark land, only four minor houses and a few hundred smallfolk families. A single massive forest dominated the area which kept the numbers of people it could support down much like the wolfsworn did for Glover, and, much less so, Stark and Cerwyn. Though those families which did live in it tended to be excellent hunters and archers for the most part, many of whom had been folded into the defense of Karhold, making up some of the numbers Karstark had sent to the Wall and down with Lord Rickard.

"If the wights were a normal enemy, you might be correct, this castle could stand any kind of normal direct assault. At least until the river froze, and they could come at you from that direction. But they aren't human!"

He held up a hand as Torrhen made to speak. "No I didn't try to fight the undead when I was on Skagos, but remember I faced them with the Wolfsworn up in The Gift! I know what we're facing. Wights don't feel pain, they don't feel fear, except with fire. They will keep on coming until you literally have to hack them into pieces, and even then those pieces will still try to attack you! Their hands and feet will try to trip you up, their heads will still try to use their teeth! They won't retreat when they take losses, they will simply keep coming!"

He sighed leaning back. "If we had weapons that could harm them, I'd be the first to say stand and fight, but we don't. You when I personally checked your family's armory for anything that could be used, and we don't have even a single dragonglass knife to our name."

"I hear what you say, but I think we have enough fire arrows, enough strength in the walls and numbers to see us through." Torrhen said stubbornly. "We'll continue to ferry smallfolk out to the Narrow sea. But my family and our arms men will stay and fight! Will you stay with us Theon? Your skill with a bow would be an aid beyond price here."

Theon stared hard at him, then over to lady Karstark and back. He finally sighed nodding reluctantly. "I'll stay."

OOOOOOO

Petyr reached the Saltpans within a bare week of leaving the Dornish army behind. After retrieving a small cache of gold hidden in a merchant's house there, he and his men stayed in the town for a few days, recuperating and generally having some down time after the hard life they had led with the Dornish army both before and after its defeat.

"So where to now my Lord?" asked Lothor.

"We'll head on to Fairmarket, and then up to the Green Fork." Petyr smiled thinly looking between two small pieces of parchment. One was a message from one of his spies in Riverrun, the other was calculations of various speed and distance questions. "I will acquire my personal prize, and then we will head on to Seagard. I have agents there who will be able to smuggle us onto their cargo ships, from there we will head down to Oldtown, and from there out of Westeros entirely."

"And we'll be paid for this will we?" Asked Osmund Kettleblack, exchanging glances with his brothers. Having to leave their family's lands behind, and knowing that their lands would no doubt be seized by the Royal House was a hard pill to swallow despite the amount of money that Petyr had already given them. It was made worse by their father's death to disease on the march with the Dornish army.

"Oh yes." Petyr replied quickly. "You saw the money I had stored here? I have the same again hidden in Fairmarket, and even more stored in Seagard. I felt that was one of the last places anyone would look for it, and my agents there were some I had made in my time in Riverrun, so I can trust them more than most. Yes…" He mused, his voice slowing as a wide, somewhat disturbing smile appeared on his face. "Yes, you will be paid handsomely I will have my prize, and we will live like kings in Essos when this is task is finished."

Now if only I could shake the feeling that someone was following us before we entered the town…

OOOOOOO

It was drizzling slightly which was becoming the norm here in the Riverlands when the rest of the Royal Army and its accompanying prisoners arrived. Behind Ranma and Daenerys the portion of the army that was already present gave a loud cheer, answered by its fellows as they moved to join them. The camp had already been prepared, with several hundred tents brought out from the city to add to the armies already large stores so that every man had a tent above them that evening, even the prisoners, though those were much more crowded than that of the rest of the army. The camp was also well made, to keep any hint of disease at bay.

Ranma and Daenerys however cared nothing for that. What they cared about was that Merry was with that army… along with their other friends of course.

Even as Jason Mallister and the other lords dismounted the royal couple had to fight to keep from looking at Merry, who was beaming happily at her two lovers. She dismounted quickly, rushing over to hug Daenerys before moving over to where Sunfyre and Rhaegon were laying down behind her. Both dragons rumbled happily to see the female two-legs who gave good scratchings and smelt of honeysuckle and blood. Daenerys laughed, putting an arm over the younger girl, leading her off through the rain as Ser Barrister followed, exchanging a nod with Eric who followed Merry, guarding her as always.

As the women moved off Jason looked at Ranma, nodding her head towards Merry. "If I could, I would bring Lord Darry back to life to kill him again for what he did to that girl. She would make a magnificent lady Paramount, but with her injuries…" Jason shook his head.

"It makes her no less of a lady my friend." Ranma said with a laugh, clapping Jason's shoulder.

"True enough and she's a bossy little one. Lady Merry basically took over the army while you were gone. She and her helpers made certain that everyone was getting the treatments they needed and that the Reach Army and their camp was organized enough to prevent disease. Oh and she's got about three dozen maesters from the Reach now following her every command like a little general. That's how Renly apparently decided to address the issue of disease on campaign, simply accosting every maester he could and dragging them along with the army."

Ranma winced at the implications that might have in the Reach, but Jason caught it should and shook his head. "Don't worry, my friend. The Reach has always had an overabundance of Maesters. Minor Houses there have them, not just the Great Houses, which would in turn have two or three. I've no doubt some of them were left behind."

Ranma nodded, his mind already moving to other things. As they had waited for the Army to rejoin them Ranma had become increasingly worried about the time limit which was rapidly approaching, indeed they were a few days less than two weeks away from the two month time limit.

Luckily Ranma and Daenerys had not been idle in the week spent waiting for the army. They had made several hard decisions on what to do with their prisoners, and they had written up a message to send to Lady Margaery for her eyes and for Jon's eyes once Jon reached Highgarden. That had already been sent with a force of twenty men to Riverrun where maester Vyman would send it on.

They had also opened up dialogue with the Royal Navy. A tentative meeting had been set up with Davos, though he insisted that it wait until some of the army which had served under Stannis was present. He wanted to question them closely on his Lord's actions, specifically what part Stannis had played in the destruction of Kings Landing. This of course would color his relations with Ranma, the man who had not only defeated his army but personally killed Stannis in battle.

Neither Ranma nor Daenerys had any problem with Davos' stance per-se. Indeed, the man's caution and loyalty to Stannis spoke well of him to them. But they needed the Royal Navy right now, which meant that Davos had a lot of bargaining power, and they were forced to wait, something Ranma was very unhappy about.

"Let's get inside the tent my Lords," he said looking around as the other Lords that had remained with the Army, including all of the Wolfsworn save Daryn joined them. He noted absently they were looking much better since he had last seen them. Roger in particular was looking good, able to get out of his saddle and stand with only a slight grimace as his wounded leg took his weight.

He spared a moment to nod at them all especially, nodding at Meera at the same time, something which made the young Reed heiress well up with pride. "The next few days are going to be very busy and very hectic for us all, but we hope to have it all organized at least from the get go."

OOOOOOO

As the two of them walked off towards where Shireen Baratheon was being housed in a tent by herself guarded by two Tully men Daenerys squeezed Merry's hand, while Merry squeezed back just as tightly. "I missed you." Merry said fiercely, leaning against the older girl's shoulder for a moment.

"Ranma and I missed you, too." Daenerys said shaking her head. "I dislike being apart from any of my loved ones." She looked back at her dragons who were following them, smiling and reaching back to scratch at Rhaegon's eye ridge for a moment causing the dragon to rumble in pleasure while Merry did the same for Sunfyre. "I wish I could say this the last time we'll be parted, but with life being what it is..." she shrugged sadly.

"The deadline for the Old Gods' warning is coming up quickly. There's no way will be able to get the whole army back North, but we still have to try." Merry said with her own sigh. "I could wish for a few days at least just to have some down time, but..."

"I know exactly what you wish for you horny little girl." Daenerys said, smacking her thigh against Merry's slightly as she pretended to stumble in the muddy ground of the camp for a moment.

"Can you blame me? Merry asked archly, despite the ferocious blush on her face Daenerys' words had evoked. "You and Ranma, both of you are Seven-damned teases."

Daenerys laughed, but as they walked on, she went on more seriously. "We might be able to make time for that at some point Merry but right now, we need to talk to Shireen."

"Have you talked to her at all since taking custody of her?" Merry asked, smiling and nodding at the soldiers around them, who bowed to the queen and the Maiden of Healing.

"A little, but she seems very twitchy in my presence. No doubt her father and uncles filled her head with tales about my family, he'd be spoiled for choice alas. She seems a little bit more at home around Ranma, which probably means she doesn't know he personally killed Stannis, a fact I would like to keep from her for a bit longer. But he and I have been so busy with other things we haven't had much time to devote to her."

Merry nodded, not commenting on how rarely Shireen was around the king or Renly. Neither had ever seen the girl as family, and not entirely because of their frosty relationship with Stannis. A few moments later she was bowed into Shireen's tent by one of the Tully armsmen on watch outside it. "Cousin Shireen?"

Shireen was a thirteen going on fourteen year old girl with the Baratheon light blue eyes under brown hair and unfortunately both her father's square jaw and her mother's large ears. A bout of greyscale when she was an infant had left half of her left cheek and most of her neck covered in gray and black skin. Though she had not been mistreated, and indeed had been treated well for the most part thanks to the Sand Snakes, the depredation of being a prisoner to a king whose temper was as volatile as Viserys had taken its toll on the girl's nerves. This showed in her face and body when she turned to the tent flap, her eyes wide and wary.

After a moment however, that look went away to be replaced by confusion. "Prin-er, Lady Myrcella?"

"Cousin, not lady or princess." Merry said, moving towards her with her arms outstretched for a hug. "I am so sorry about everything that has happened to you in this war. My mother was an arrogant and willfully blind woman at times, but I never thought she would commit treason as she did to keep Joffrey Waters on the throne."

Shireen hesitated then nodded, not wishing to delve into that conversation any deeper since it would bring up the dubious nature of Myrcella's own birth. She accepted the hug demurely, surprised at the strength and firmness in Merry's arms, which surprised a real hug out of her in turn. "I could say the same Myrcella, Your Majesty, for my father's actions." She said looking over Daenerys, unable to stop herself from taking a shot at the Stormborn. "Yet some of us seem to have gotten out of it far better than others."

"I would've been perfectly content to be the Lady of Winterfell and remain with Ranma in the North. We would both have been content to remain in Winterfell, but events forced us to take the throne. I realize that sounds trite, but in this case it is true." Daenerys replied, pulling up two small camp chairs and sitting down as Merry set aside her. "Now that Merry has joined us, let us talk."

That discussion went on for some time, giving Daenerys a far better idea of Shireen's character then she had before this. Her reserve seemed to fade somewhat, and she spoke well and somewhat intelligently, if not as well-read or worldly as could be hoped. Still, is that a sign of her age, or her natural temperament? Regardless, I don't think she's ready to become Lady Baratheon.

Several hours later the two girls left Shireen behind, talking quietly to one another while they walked through the now dark camp. Their path was lit here and there by braziers and fires despite the ongoing drizzle, yet that did nothing for the mud underneath their boots. "What do you think of Shireen?" Merry asked.

"Much better that time around than my first impression of her. I thought she was a shrinking violet, but there is a brain in there. But I don't think we can install Shireen at Dragonstone or at Storm's End. She's not trained for it, knows nothing about Storm's End, and is far too timid."

"I'd suggest keeping with us as a lady in waiting, teach her what she needs to know slowly. Or, better yet, keep her with the army until we reach Winterfell and then have Lady Catelyn and Lord Eddard start teaching her, I think they've proven their ability in that areas." Merry said, smirking slightly. "I could always use another pair of hands, and it would let you keep her as a hostage, whatever that might be worth."

"I dislike that, no we won't use Shireen as a hostage, though the awarding of lordship of Storm's End could be kept in reserve." Daenerys mused. "Besides, we've already got a few such captive, no need to add a fourth."

"You're talking about Arianne and the Sand Snakes?" Merry asked shrewdly.

"Yes. After talking to a few of our lords, we decided we can't simply execute Arianne as her actions against Westeros really deserve." Daenerys laughed harshly. "Oh, that was a hard fact to admit to, for both of us. Still, doing so would set Dorne against us in the future as well as now, and Daryn and the other's talked us out of it. Oberyn's death, once Jon contrives it, is going to have a big enough impact. We can ill afford to tie up the manpower it would take to remove Doran from power down there right now, the smallfolk and remaining Lords respect him too much for us to move against him. This was a disaster for Dorne make no bones about it, and the Lords with the army might be willing to do so, but those back home? The best we would get would be a civil war, and Ranma and I don't want that. We'll be turning to other means to make Dorne pay for backing Viserys."

"Good. I'm sick of this." Merry confessed leaning her head against Daenerys' shoulder. "I'm so sick of the killing and everything that comes with it."

"I understand that all too well and I too am tired of killing." Daenerys replied, letting her own head fall against Merry's head for a moment.

"So what will you do about Storm's End now? And about the Sand Snakes and Arianne, if you're not going to execute her I mean."

Daenerys smiled grimly, and told her about a plan Ranma had thought up for Arianne. Merry gasped at first then laughed aloud, shaking her head. "That is so appropriate it's not even funny."

"I thought so. But the Sand Snakes, what to do with them eludes us at present. They have more standing than I expected with Dornish army here, and if that spreads to the smallfolk back in Dorne even they can't be executed without causing problems in the future."

"Why not…" Merry said slowly… "Why not do the same to them as you wish to with Shireen? Keep them with the Royal House and train them up, see how they do. Put Nymeria to work in helping Alayaya put together a complete spy network while watching her closely. If she does well, name her to that post permanently along with Alayaya. That will show that you're able to let bygones be bygones, and splitting the post of Master of Whisperers like that might be a good idea in any event, set a precedent for the future, since it would stop someone like Varys from playing kingmaker. Besides, it worked well enough for us so far hasn't it?"

Daenerys nodded, and the two of them fell silent, once again remembering Domeric and how he had died. After a moment however Merry went on. "As for the other, the one Meera captured, isn't she a decent commander? Watch her, keep her with the army and if she proves a decent enough fighter, make her train with Dacey."

"Hmm, that's a good idea I suppose. The training itself would serve as a punishment in a way, and the upshot of her becoming, what a Sand Stalker, or something of that nature?"

"Sand Spear." Merry said firmly. "Weapons or shields, you need to keep using that sort of symbolism."

"In fact." Daenerys said taking that idea and running with it. "I actually have an even better idea there, something that might tie the Martells to one of our most loyal Houses. But I'll have to talk to Rickard about it first."

At that point the two of them entered the royal tent, finding Ranma there alone, having just sent his lords and friends off to bed. One moment Merry and Daenerys were talking seriously, the next Ranma was hugging them both, twirling around with the two girls in midair, laying kisses on face, neck and mouth as he told Merry how much he missed her. Though they didn't go much further than that, the serious discussions for the day were certainly over.

The next day the army marched into Maidenpool to cheering from the smallfolk, something which began the moment they formed up for the March from smallfolk lining the walls of the large town. Of course this wasn't the full army, Maidenpool could not have housed them all. The surrendered Dornishmen and the rest of the prisoners were kept outside.

All the Lords that had surrendered and the Reach Lords that had retreated from the battle however came in with the rest of the Army. That battle was now known as the Shadow's Fall due to the events the night before and Melisandre's power which had been used during it.

Those Reach lords were in a sort of legal limbo at this point, an honorably surrendered force but one which had taken actions against the crown and the smallfolk since falling under Stannis' command. Yet while they had technically followed Stannis, they had truly followed who they thought was their Lord Paramount at the time, and such loyalty could not be held against them. But any actions they took while following Mace still had to be paid for, and since Willas wasn't here to do that, the Royal family could do with them what they wished both as vassals of their loyal lord and as prisoners.

While the portion of the army that had come into the town was allowed to have some downtime, Ranma and Daenerys presided once again over a series of trials. For these trials they were joined once again by Rickard to represent the North and Merry as well, in her position as the former Princess of the former Royal family. Lord Blackwood represented the Riverlands this time rather than Jason, who remained with the army outside the walls for now. They were also joined by two newcomers.

One of these newcomers was from the Reach: Lord Fossoway of the Green Apple Fossoways, Garlan Tyrell's father-in-law. The man was brought to the court within a moment's of the army's investiture of Lord Mooton's keep.

He stopped for a moment in the doorway of the dining hall, staring at the hall which he and the prisoners had passed through with the other, extremely nervous Reach lords mere moments ago. None of them believed that a Stark would stomach any kind of torture or anything to willingly surrendered prisoners, but there was the Targaryen girl to think of. Her father wasn't the only madman that House had produced after all, something even the most pro-Targaryen lord remembered all too well.

The hall had been changed in the brief time since he had last seen it. Gone were Mooton's banners, which had been strewn here and there from the ceilings of the roof. In their place was one banner for every Lord that was sitting on that table, with the Royal Houses the most prevalent hanging right behind them, its words,'Honor Above All', visible to every man who entered.

For a moment the hall was silent then Daenerys spoke. "Lord Fossoway, we have questioned many of our own lords about who among the Reach nobles we should look to for his probity, adherence to the law and honor. One name they all agreed upon was you. As such, we ask you to take part in this proceeding. Realize that this is a trial, no one's fate has been decided yet, though my husband and I have heard the evidence of some of the cases, and we have some idea on the penalties we will be demanding for the most… politically sensitive prisoners, but for many even that is in the air."

There Ranma took up the tale. "We ask you to sit, to give us your opinion on what you hear. This will not accrue any special right or new power to you. The Reach is a mess as you well know, but it's one that we are too far removed from here to have an accurate picture of. Furthermore, we have duties in the North that we need to see to. Therefore, we will be leaving the remapping of the Reach and its territories to House Tyrell in the form of its new Lord Paramount Willas and his spokeswoman Lady Margaery, along with our Hand, Jon Stark."

Lord Fossoway twitched at that eyes narrowing. "My Lord, may I ask where this Jon Stark is now?"

"Jon Stark was already sent into the Reach with a force of allied Houses before Stannis and our army clashed. We estimate that by this point he has probably reached the mouth of the Mander, and begun his travel down the river. His skills as a leader and warrior will be needed there against the depredations of the Dornish mercenary army, but I have no doubt that my brother's mind will be even more necessary in the coming days." Ranma smiled, his entire bearing showing the confidence he had in Jon.

Inwardly however Ranma grumbled, not liking this formal talk, but again this was most only the place for it. And the way my wife is pinching my side is definitely a clue that she would be unhappy if I broke from the script. Hmmpf, I'll get you back for this tonight love, you know I will. To his side Daenerys retracted her hand, flushing at the way Ranma's hand had caressed it just right for a second there.

Lord Fossoway thought for a moment then nodded slowly. "As Lord Willas would be my Lord Paramount's heir regardless of anything else, I feel that I can in all honor serve in this body. Realize however that I will give my opinion honorably and honestly. I am no man's yes-man your majesties. I was not even that for Mace or King Robert."

"Is any northern Lord a yes-man to anyone?" Rickard scoffed angrily. "Myself and Lord Blackwood sit on this panel to give our opinion Fossoway, not to parrot back Ranma's words. He's never wanted something like that, and never would. Even Lady Daenerys is remarkably open to suggestion and debate."

Both Royals smiled, and Lord Fossoway looked at Rickard then at Lord Blackwood, both of whom he had met in the past though Rickard only briefly during the Greyjoy rebellion. Lord Blackwood however he had met several times. Indeed, they had debated at one point whether or not they should unite their Houses through a marriage between one of Lord Blackwood's sons and one of Lord Fossoway's daughters.

Seeing both men nod he simply nodded in turn. "Very well, where should I sit?"

The other newcomer was Lord Brune of Dyre Den. He was the patriarch of the most powerful House of that land, and had led the secret assault that had taken Lord Mooton and the town of Maidenpool once the Dornishmen left. As such he was now the incumbent Duke Crackclaw, with a stake in the town of Maidenpool, the revenue of which would go to creating better roads into and out of Crackclaw point, and in creating a port town for themselves on the Point in the future. Unlike Lord Fossoway, he had heard all the stories of Daenerys and Ranma, and had no reservation in giving his oath to them or taking part in the trial.

After that, the trials began quickly and many of them were very easy. The Stormlands lords in particular were ludicrously simple to deal with because there were so few Lords from that realm left alive. Because of that, and the fact there was no trueborn Baratheon male remaining alive, the Stormlands would be broken into duchies like the Westerlands, with each duke beholden directly to the crown rather than a Lord Paramount.

Despite its part in backing Stannis, Massey became the first of these to be recognized. They would take control of Massey's Hook, along with a large section of the shoreline facing Blackwater Bay towards the Wendwater. That land had formerly been controlled by House Kellington, a house which had been annihilated between the battles between the two Baratheons, their lord having died on the march afterward under Stannis, though no one seemed to know how.

The new Lord Massey was incredibly grateful to Ranma's rescue of his sister, a sentiment which had not faded since the battle of the Shadow's Fall. Justin knew all too well what would've happened to Glinda if any but his own men had found her when the Baratheon army overran the Golden Company's camp. What Glinda had already suffered was more than enough, and the fact that Ranma and Daenerys were prepared to waive any reparations from his House for their part in backing Stannis thanks to the deprivations of the Golden Company on their lands simply solidified his excellent opinion of the royal house. And indeed sent a message to the remaining Stormlands armsmen as well, a very good one.

The only other remaining lord of Stannis' original backers, Lord Errol, had survived, and strangely enough no wrong doing could be laid at his feet despite rumors passed on from the armsmen among the prisoners. Lord Brune and Rickard took a dim view of him, but the others were not convinced by rumor.

As House Errol had no heir or lady that could be trusted to run his lands, and because those lands were important in terms of food production for the Stormlands, he was allowed to return home. But the reparations Haystack Hall was leveed with would cripple his family's finances almost as badly as the war had hammered their military strength.

From there the trials moved on to deal with the surviving Stormlands lords that had originally followed Renly.

Lord Lester Morrigen was given the choice of joining them to serve the Royal Army as a knight until winter ended or exile. He agreed to this realizing it was a life sentence yet also a way to regain his family's honor. No other reparations would be leveled against his House because of this, and House Morrigen would be allowed to enrich itself on the lands of their neighbors under his surviving son, Richard. Richard had impressed everyone on the march with his intelligence and acumen, and Lester was happy the royals were willing to keep him as the House's heir despite knowing he himself might well die in the near future.

The last remaining actual Stormlord, Lord Horpe, was the first lord to be executed for war crimes in this series of trials. This was because Lord Blackwood had followed Ranma's instruction on noting down the colors of those Houses most involved in preying upon the smallfolk as Stannis' army marched into the Riverlands.

Lord Blackwood had personally seen Lord Horpe leading such bands several times, and had even gathered a few witnesses, spiriting them away with his skirmishers. Horpe's lands, like that of Musgood, Trant and others, had felt the Viper's sting already, but they would still be officially turned over to House Grandison, the nearest surviving House that had any strength remaining. Grandison however had no surviving representative among the prisoners, so they would have to speak to the Royal House's representative when they were in the Stormlands.

Of course a final redrawing of the borders within the Stormlands would need to wait for a time. That work which would be left to Jon, Lord Dondarrion, and the representative the royal family would be sending down there with the remains of the Stormlands army to make certain that anarchy wouldn't erupt in the Stormlands, whose name would be announced at the end of the trials for the Stormlords.

Frankly the only powerful Houses, the Houses that Ranma and Daenerys's representative would have to lean on to control the chaos that the Stormlands would devolve into with so many Houses wiped out or powerless, were those who had stayed at home. Dondarrion was easily the strongest of these, with other Marcher Houses that had kept some of their men home coming a distant second, along with House Grandison, with the town of Grand View to call upon.

The fate of the last house with a representative present, House Swann, was a surprise for most. Donnel, Lord Swann's oldest son and heir, hadn't exactly covered himself after being sent to war with a force of around a thousand of his house's men, but he was still alive, as was his younger brother Balon. When Balon was shown in, the two brothers stared at one another in surprise, neither having realized the other was present among the thousands of prisoners.

Ranma smirked slightly at the surprise on the two Swann's faces before speaking. "Ser Balon, I trust your stay under our care has not been too unpleasant?"

The former Kingsguard nodded his head slowly, his eyes looking all around. Of course he had heard what had happened to his former charges, and had even learned about Joffrey being both a Waters and a kinslayer, but it hadn't made his failing to defend Joffrey or Cersei as his oath demanded. "No… Your Majesty, my stay as your prisoner hasn't been unpleasant at all. You and your men have treated myself and all your other prisoners with all the decency honor could demand on the march."

"Good. You are here now Ser Swann because Ser Selmy has spoken up on your behalf, saying your placement into the Kingsguard was one you deserved in terms of skill and personal honor." Ranma watched as Balon's eyes moved to look at Ser Barristan, where he was standing along one wall, his white armor and cloak once more immaculate white.

"As such, we have decided that the dishonor done to you by being forced to serve a pretender to the throne is enough of a punishment. As King and Queen, we relieve you of your oaths to the defunct knightly order called the Kingsguard. You and your brother will serve our representative, Ser Selmy, in restoring order and our rule to the Stormlands until he is satisfied. Your house maybe called upon to take up more responsibility for the lands ravaged by the Viper's madness, but we both believe that your father will be up to the task. And I think we can trust the two of you to serve Ser Selmy as honorably as you served the Kings you were previously oath-bound to. Is this the case?"

Both brothers' eyes tracked to Ser Selmy, the penultimate example of knighthood, who, despite being surprised by this appointment, simply stared back stoically. Time enough for him to bring up his objections to this move later in private, though his previous dealings with kings and queens told him it would probably be futile.

The Swann brothers then turned to one another, communicating without words as some siblings could, before turning and bowing deeply to the two monarchs. "Yes your majesties, we will serve Ser Selmy and the realm as best we may, you may depend on this."

After the Stormlands was dealt with, Ranma called for brief recess. While the other Lords went off to find something to eat and before Ser Selmy could speak up, Ranma nodded at Daryn. "Bring Davos in, he should be ready to make a decision by this point."

Daryn nodded, and not a minute later came back with Ser Seaworth. He had been closely questioning the men of the army. Not the Lords, but the men who served under them while he tried to build a picture of what had happened around King's Landing. He had come away with a grim understanding of how Melisandre had ruined the honorable man that Davos had given his oath to. "Your Majesties." he said, bowing his head to Ranma and Daenerys. "I have…"

He paused, then went on steadily if not happily. "I served Stannis Baratheon, not only as Lord of Dragonstone but as the person who I felt was the rightful King of Westeros. When we met, he was honorable to a fault, fair-minded if rather hidebound, but a good, decent man for that. By his own actions, and by the actions he allowed the Red Witch to take, it's obvious Stannis fell from that high perch before his death. I, I therefore am left to do my duty as my oaths to Westeros as a whole dictate. Both myself and the fleet I currently command in the defense of all Westeros are yours."

Ranma smiled in welcome. "Take a seat Ser Davos, you aren't on trial here at least."

When Davos did so, looking at Ranma in astonishment Ranma simply laughed quietly. "Davos, we've talked to our lords and men, both those who served in Robert's Rebellion and in the Greyjoy Rebellion. Not one of them had anything bad to say for you. Besides, you're not the only good man whose loyalty led him astray in this war. You did your duty as you saw it, you did not commit any atrocities, and you served in an exemplary fashion, retaking Dragonstone and sinking several Dornish warships before blockading Maidenpool. We're not going to hold the fact that you served Stannis against you."

"Indeed, your actions speak well of your abilities, and the fact that you did not storm Driftmark, or put that House to the sword as we feel Stannis must've ordered speaks for your honor." Daenerys said.

She reached out with one hand, and knowing his cue young Cley moved forward, handing her a large scroll set with the new royal seal. "This is a warrant declaring you as Duke Rainwood. We have no idea what the nobles houses from the Rainwood left at home, but none of their military forces sent to war survived. As such, your House is the sole surviving power in the region, and will be called upon to keep order there. The size of that area means you will no doubt become one of the new Stormlands dukes given time. We would like you to create a port somewhere along Cape Wrath for the future, but at the moment, this warrant and what it means is all we can do."

Ranma held out his own hand, and Cley smoothly moved to place another scroll in his hand while Davos took possession of the one Daenerys held. "This is a message to Lord Estermont. We would like you to designate a trustworthy captain to lead a small number of ships down to Plankytown in Dorne, but they will stop over on Greenstone. Estermont kept their naval power at home, and that will give the expedition down to Dorne some added bite."

Staring between the two, Davos could barely understand what was happening here. Kings should not treat defeated forces so kindly after all, certainly not reward them for services rendered to their enemies! But these two were, and it suddenly occurred to Davos that maybe kindness was yet another weapon in their arsenal. And it isn't like they haven't amply demonstrated their strength by this point. Davos thought sardonically, thinking of the songs that had already begun to be sung of the Shadow's Fall, the March of the Wolf King, and, his personal favorite, the Battle of Dragons.

After a moment he nodded humbly. "My liege, your majesty, I know just the man. But if I may ask, what would you have the bulk of the Royal navy be doing at this time?"

Ranma smiled thinly. "That is quite a tale Davos, but one you need to know in full, because we need your aid, yours and the services of the Royal Navy. Though, I hope that you were in Dragonstone long enough for our order for dragonglass weapons to give you a clue as to what we're going to be dealing with."

The three of them continued to talk for a time, with Ranma and Daenerys outlining what they wanted to do. Davos however had to inform them his fleet didn't have the lift capacity to transport the army in one go to the North. So the royal couple were forced to split off some of their forces.

The Riverlands cavalry, Tristan Ryger and House Shawney would stay behind with the mountain clansmen, who had professed severe unease about ocean travel in any event. The Tully cavalry would be sent to Harroway for now, on hand there in case Ser Blanetree needed a bigger hammer in dealing with the bandits.

Another six hundred men, mostly made up of Lord Ashford and his men, all of whom had given their allegiance to the Royal House, were to work with House Buckwell of the Crownlands. They would carry word to the Crownlands Houses of the outcome of the war, relay a message to House Chelsted, the most powerful house in the Crownlands (by a significant margin at this point), and restore crown control over the lands. But without King's Landing, the Crownlands weren't a large enough issue to devote more time to.

Davos left the dining hall knowing that he had done the right thing to bend the knee to Ranma and Daenerys, and grimly determined to do his part. Not a turn of the candle later, Royal Navy war galleys entered the town's docks and portions of the army began to move through the town embarking on the waiting galleys.

The moment Davos left Ser Barristan turned to the royal couple. "Your Majesties, you cannot be serious! My place is at your side your grace. I thought I had proven that you need a bodyguard long before this."

"That might have been true in times of war, my knight." said Daenerys, waving the man into a chair. "But I hardly think I'm going to face assassins around every corner now. Moreover, can you really argue that we have no one else to send that knows the Stormlands?"

Ranma nodded agreement. "Jon's going to have his Hand full in the Reach." He paused smirking at Daenerys who rolled her eyes at his joke, smacking him on the shoulder and he went on. "And Lord Dondarrion is going to be busy down in the Marches. We need someone in the Stormlands to ride hard on the mess it's become, restore order. You've been with the army for months, you've seen our methods, you've seen our organization, and you're from the Stormlands."

Actually, House Selmy was one of the more powerful remaining houses, having sent only a third of their forces to war under Renly because they were considered a Marcher House. Ranma hoped that that would add to Barristan's ability to rally the shattered Stormlands to his aid in order to restore order and law to the lands which had been left without their lords for too long.

"I might have been raised there your Majesty, but I have not been to the Stormlands in years! Well," the older man amended honestly. "Save for traveling the Kingsroad down to Storm's End with Robert occasionally. That's hardly the same thing as knowing the lay of the land enough to plan an anti-bandit campaign."

"It isn't simply about knowing the lay of the land my knight and you know it." Daenerys replied firmly. "The Stormlands will be in disarray for years whatever we do. Too many Lords have died, too many armsmen have died. Many houses have been torn down and despoiled already in this war. When we spoke to Justin Massey telling him we needed him to restore order down there we were telling the truth. The Stormlands will slowly fall into chaos, chaos breeds bandits, lawlessness, and dissension. We need to send someone down there with the remnants of the Stormlands Army to restore order! And that means you."

"No one can the question your honor or integrity Barristan." said Ranma coming back into the conversation. "Everyone knows you as one of the truest knights of the realm, and hopefully by the time you get down there the word of your new oaths to the royal house, which means people won't even question whether or not you'd do something dishonorable if you were ordered to. We want order restored to those lands, we want those lands repaired, and the houses that remain in the Stormlands shown that we can be merciful and as my wife says, that means you."

Ser Barristan frowned, shaking his head. "And what about my own point, who will guard the Queen's back while I'm away?"

Before Ranma could speak he held up a hand. "I realize that while you are hear Your Majesty my presence is rather superfluous, but the point still stands seeing as you're not always around, the duties of the crown to compel you so. And none of your Wolfsworn have training in how to spot assassins."

"No they don't, but my dragons have a strong sense of smell." Daenerys replied firmly. "Whenever Ranma is not with me, I will bed down with the dragons, surrounded by the Wolfsworn. That will be enough to see off assassins surely."

"I suppose," Ser Barristan agreed reluctantly. "But what about poison?"

"Merry." Daenerys replied with a shrug. "We also have several other Maesters here. Merry is learning more and more all the time not just about healing but about poisons and other things of similar nature. Plus, when Fenris is around or one of the other direwolves as will be the case when we reach Winterfell, they'll be able to smell if anything is strange or unusual in my food."

"I dislike the idea of placing your safety in the hands of beasts my lady, no matter how intelligent." Ser Barristan said, though it was more rote response than anything else. He had seen the devotion the animals had to Ranma and Daenerys respectively, and Fenris at least had taken Daenerys to heart as well though the dragons certainly hadn't done the reverse with Ranma. They still occasionally tried to bite him, which was rather amusing to watch. If dragons could pout Rhaegon certainly would have the last time he'd try to bite Ranma and was smacked on the nose with the hand of the arm he'd tried to bite off.

Daenerys reached out, taking the older man's hand. "Ser Barristan, this is not a sign of distrust or of the fact that we don't need you, we do, it is just that right now we need you down in though Stormlands rather than by our side. When your task is done, then you may return to us."

The knight sighed, squeezed her hand and nodded. "Very well your majesties, I will take on this quest for you."

OOOOOOO

At the same time that Ranma and Daenerys were dispensing justice, Ser Garlan Tyrell was finally leading the majority of his fleet in towards the Shield Islands. They had been held up for over a two weeks in retaking Starfish Harbor, but now at last they were within striking distance of the last lands the Ironborn had taken from the Reach.

Originally Garlan had wanted to assign the Redwynes to retake the island, but after their deplorable display of cowardice, neither of the two Redwyne 'knights' could be trusted for the task. So Garlan had been forced to use a hammer to smash an egg, and further had been forced to give both of them a chance to reclaim their honor by putting them in charge of taking House Redwyne's keep.

And of course Horas and Hobber fucked that up too, Seven save me from fools! Garlan thought, actually pouting a little as he thought of the battle the two had tried to plan for reclaiming their family's keep. Not a well-built or decent castle by any stretch, retaking it had still cost him two men for every one of the defenders. The only good side, and Garlan had to admit it was a morbid one, was that the two morons had gotten themselves killed almost at the start of the battle, trying to show that they did have some courage to them.

Others might have thought their deaths had reclaimed the honor they lost in fleeing from the battle on Balon's flagship. Garlan, despite being related to them simply wished their stupidity hadn't resulted in so many other good men dying. At least this paves the way for Desmera to take control of House Redwyne, a gloomy thought to be sure, but at least I know she and her cousin will retain the island behind us, and I think between the two of them they can start to heal the wounds the Ironborn left on the Arbor.

Garlan shivered, and it had nothing to do with the cold wind blowing all around him as he stood at the prow of Shield's Honor. The Ironborn's occupation of the Arbor would take decades to heal, and that was only possible because their captives, thousands of womenfolk, had been kept in the keep rather than on their ships. The thin, scared, broken faces of those women when they had retaken the keep would haunt him forever. And there was the damages done to the harbors, holdfasts and vineyards to see to as well.

Still, I can leave that in Desmera and Desmond's hands, I have four more Islands to retake. Then, then I will have to turn my attention north. Archmaester Marwyn had not lost any of his certainty about the threat growing beyond the Wall, and Garlan had given his word.

Hours later however, the battle he had assumed would be waiting for him had not occurred. The fleet slowly spread out investigating the waters around the Shield Islands, but they didn't see a single longship. With the rest of the fleet patrolling off shore of South Shield, a single boat was sent into its port.

The captains report was odd, troubling but not in an immediate way. The Ironborn ships, about five ships worth, had up and left several days ago. They left the islands even more ravaged than the Arbor, because the 'salt wives' the crews had taken since investing the islands had gone with them. But, and this was the odd thing, the small fleet had sailed off southwest rather than north. That was odd, since that way would only take them around the Arbor and into the Summer Sea rather than back to their Islands.

Five Ironborn ships could to some damage further south I suppose, but that's not enough manpower to take any of the Reach castles on the shore, and barely a tenth of what they'd need to take Oldtown. No, wait, it's not five, it's six, isn't it. One ship came in, and soon all the others left with it… I wonder who was on that ship. Hmm… I think we'll leave several war galleys here, then sail over to the mouth of the Mander to make certain they aren't waiting there.

But Garlan's fleet would find no sign of the Ironborn ships. Other longships were still up the Mander somewhere, but the forces left on the Shield Islands were just gone. With that confirmed, Garlan left a fourth of his fleet to guard the mouth of the Mander and the Shield Islands, then, after taking on food and water from a few supply ships up from Oldtown, turned north, heading along the shore to the Westerlands and beyond. After all, just because he was heading north didn't mean Garlan couldn't make some stops along the way.

OOOOOOO

After that break, the trials continued with the Reach lords and two others. First was Lord Mooton. For his part in supplying Viserys and allowing him to land his troops he was exiled to the Silent Brothers.

His daughter however was not because Lord Brune spoke up on her behalf. It turned out that she had actually helped the Crackclaw Point invaders get into the keep. She had been corresponding with Ser Tyle Brune for several years, and when Tyle requested her hand in marriage, Ranma, quickly agreed. This tied into the fact that the Crackclaw Point Houses would be getting a portion of the tithe for Maidenpool, which was given a royal commission to grow into a city.

Ranma honestly doubted that Maidenpool would ever become a major port, not with Harroway a bare few days sail further into the Bay of Crabs. But it could turn into a major exporter. The lands around it were very good for dairy products. The cheese from this land and from Butterwell were famous for a reason after all, and Ranma had already turned over house Butterwell's land to a knight of that house who'd remained with the army, a distant cousin to the Lord of that house that had been serving under house Mallister until that point.

The next issue to be dealt with was Varys. He had tried several times to escape the army's custody. But with Dacey and the other injured Wolfsworn in charge of him, he had not succeeded, and now faced justice for his many crimes.

Here the lords on the tribunal were split on what to do. The evidence against him was damning after all. The fact he had backed a pretender to the throne, withheld information from Robert (and Joffrey, but no one cared about that) and had played a part in bringing the Golden Company into the conflict, betraying his post as Master of Whisperers to two kings, possibly three if you counted Aerys the Mad, could not be argued. But Fossoway and Blackwood both felt he might be more useful alive. They did not persuade the rest of the lords however, and Varys was executed within a few moments of the verdict being reached.

He died quickly, despite his protests and attempts to sway the court to his side. To the last Varys had thought he could talk his way out of his execution, but nothing he said mattered in the end and Ranma actually sighed with relief as the eunuch's head left his shoulders.

From that point they turned to dealing with the Reach. Three lords were accused of taking part in the razing and rapine of the smallfolk, though only two, Lords Cuy and Mullendore, were convicted of it and sent into exile. Their House's men suffered far worse, most of them being executed on the spot. These were not smallfolk levees after all, these were knights and armsmen who not only took part but exulted in preying upon those they should've defended. But since the lords themselves were only seen taking parts in raids where there was burning and looting rather than killing and rapine, they were exiled rather than executed.

The third however could not be convicted, because Lord Blackwood and his men had only seen his colors in places where very few smallfolk had actually died under his forager's blades. There also had been no burning under his command so far as any witnesses could be found, so Lord Rowan went free. Again, this wasn't exactly a perfect way of dispensing justice for wrongs committed, but it was the best the King and Queen could contrive.

The trials continued well past sunset before they finished. Then, after a quick snack Ranma and Daenerys once again sat in judgment with the panel of judges, but this time they were not alone. No, this time every Lord from the Reach, the Stormlands, and the Riverlands was in attendance. Even Lord Buckwell Antlers was there to represent the Crownlands, thanks to Jason having thought of contacting the man after the battle and telling him to come with them with a small retinue. He hadn't taken part in any of the proceedings so far, but had witnessed them all as one of many such witnesses that had been brought in to see justice done.

"Bring in the prisoners." Ranma ordered coldly.

After a moment the doors to former Lord Mooton's dining hall opened, and the surviving Lords of Viserys' army were shown in, along with Arianne, Nymeria, and Elia. They started for a moment at the Lords arrayed against them ranged behind the central table and along all of the walls. Lord Buckwell, the Reach Lords, Lord Massey, the Swann brothers and Lord Errol were lined up along the walls, while the River lords, the two Northern Lords and the Crackclaw Point Lords were arrayed behind the table.

Unlike where they had been sitting in judgment, Ranma and Daenerys sat alone at that table now. In front of them on the table was Ice crossed with Dark Sister. To one side of the crossed blades was a stack of scrolls sealed with the new royal seal. To the other side was piled the trio of crowns that had been taken from the bodies of Viserys, Stannis, and Aegon. Even the one that had been taken from Joffrey was there, on the bottom of that pile, almost unnoticed at first. As a sign of the victories the royal house had won so far, that took some beating.

Nonetheless Daenerys had wanted to do this outside so that her two no-longer-little ones could also be included. That would have driven the point home that the new royal house had the same power as the old House Targaryen, but even more support from the nobles. But it was raining again, and it would've taken a day or so to set up a large enough pavilion for all of the Lords and the dragons to be within.

Nonetheless, I suppose that the total effect is enough to get the point across. You face not just the royal house with one or two Lords Paramount behind us my Lords, you now face the totality of the rest of Westeros, united for once, and hopefully well into the future.

Ranma gripped her hand underneath the table, and Daenerys squeezed back twice, signaling that she wanted to wait a few more seconds. She let the silence of the hall linger, then nodded regally at the guards by the door who began to shift the Dornish Lords forward, until they were directly in front of the noble's table.

When they were in place, she began to speak. "It is said that you Dornishmen play politics even more subtly than the Reach or the Westerlands. Thus you will realize that when we speak we speak not just for the Royal House, but what the Royal House represents, Westeros united, united by the sword in some cases, united by words in others, by blood and oath of fealty. But a great thing is not great until it is finished, and Dorne alone remains to be brought into the royal fold."

Ranma took up the tale, as they had discussed. They needed to drive home once again that this was a true even marriage, with both Ranma and Daenerys being co-equal as rulers. The other Lords had already learned this, the Dornishmen needed to learn it now. "I am not just a student of warfare but of history, and my wife knows the history of her own family as well as any. We have had several weeks to think about this my Lords, and we have allowed our initial rush of anger to subside. Simply because we know that if we do what justice truly should demand, we would face unrest in Dorne, which could possibly boil over despite our best efforts."

He fell silent, allowing hope to awaken in the Dornish Lords for a bit. That they would might be able to get out of this debacle with nothing more demanded of them than the normal reparations paid out by the loser.

Then Ranma continued to speak, crushing that hope ruthlessly. "Yet the fact remains that you backed a butcher, a psychopath who used his dragon and his influence over you to burn and slaughter hundreds of people in some vainglorious efforts to reclaim the crown in the only way he thought he could. That must be paid for. So while we will not be executing you as was our first desire Arianne, neither will we let you free. It is on your shoulders, on your shoulders alone that Viserys was able to come back as a true threat to Westeros at all. Without you and your father, he would have nothing but mercenaries behind him and not the numbers or the influence to truly be dangerous."

Daenerys spoke up then, seeing the objection in many of their listener's eyes. "Yes, his Dragon could've made him a power, but not enough of one to be a threat to all of Westeros as he had become with your aid. You and your family must pay for that."

Ranma nodded and went on. "Arianne Martell, for your part in bringing war and death to Westeros, we sentence you to live out your days in White Harbor. Specifically, you will remain there and be in charge of carrying for the former queen Cersei Lannister. When the revelations of her son's true nature came out, Cersei's mind broke, and since then she has been comatose, calling for a permanent day-per-day care. You will be in charge of that, and so long as she lives, your safety will be assured and you will live as your noble status would demand. If anything should happen to her, you will be stripped of all of your comforts, and sent to join the Silent Sisters in that same city."

Despite seeing the poetic justice behind that sentence, Ranma had not been happy with it. Despite their time on the trading galley together, he had never warmed to Arianne, and she was to blame for helping Viserys become the threat he had. He had wanted to execute her, but his advisors had convinced him and Daenerys otherwise.

And after going over the history of the Targaryen's interaction with Dorne Ranma had reluctantly agreed. Killing Arianne would've caused more trouble down the line, making her another Elia Martell for Dorne to rally around. But this was an elegant solution. And if Arianne thinks that she'll be able to try to gain some influence in White Harbor she's sorely mistaken. Lord Manderly will handle her easily.

For her part Arianne was staring aghast at Ranma and Daenerys. To lose her family's influence, to be exiled to the cold North, regardless of whether it was supposedly a city or not, was one thing. To be forced to take care of Cersei, a Lannister and not only any Lannister, but one of the ones who she blamed for her family's dishonor, that was beyond cruel!

Seeing this Ranma took a bit of vindictive pleasure in the horror that was passing over Arianne's face. Let the punishment fit the crime he thought grimly, now truly getting behind this idea. "Take her away." He nodded at Dacey, who along with Hathan and Daryn were stationed by the doorway.

Dacey nodded back. Moving forward she took the other woman's arm pulling her back towards the doorway when Arianne continued to stare at the royal couple in horror.

Behind her and Nymeria and Elia exchanged a glance. That was well beyond what they had feared would happen, and showed both mercy and justice in equal amounts. Which spoke well of their own chances here, especially in regards to the conversation Nymeria had with the two royals after the Dornish army first surrendered. They must truly be willing to listen if they were able to set aside their anger at Arianne to that extent.

Daenerys spoke up then, staring at the two girls. "In like mind, we realized that the position of base-born in Dorne is different than in most of Westeros. And if we cannot take aggressive action against the one who was the archetype of my late brother's return to Westeros, we cannot take action against either of you to a greater degree. For your parts in this, you will serve the Royal House until such time as my husband and I believe that you have repaid your debt to Westeros through service."

"I hasten to add you are not hostages to your family's good conduct, you are simply serving out your time much like those men and Lords assigned to duty on the Royal Canal project from the Westerlands. Your duties will be decided upon and described to you later."

Both women bowed, and at Daenerys's imperious gesture the two of them removed themselves to the door, where they were escorted out by six more guards, men of House Tully and Blackwood.

Ranma stared at the Lords of the Dorne. "Your own positions and that of your men is somewhat different than that of House Martell. House Martell's men have already been consigned to working on the royal canal for five years, but you and your men will face a different fate. Much like to Westerlands lords who followed the Lannisters, cannot be held accountable for where your loyalty let you, only the actions you took since. But we cannot let you off with mere reparations like in the past or even Dorne in general."

"House Martel will pay reparations to the crown." He went on, tapping the long scroll of parchment that had been laid on top of the crossed swords in front of him and Daenerys. "Plankytown is to become Crown Land, its revenues taxed to pay for reparations to the Stormlands for Oberyn's campaign there. Your houses will pay a 5% increase in taxes to be used to repair Gulltown and to replace the ships of the Royal Navy destroyed in this war, along with what damages you did to Dragonstone and Driftmark."

Daenerys took up the tale there. "Furthermore, House Dayne will be rewarded for not taking part in this. It, the lands of House Wyl, Fowler and Manwoody will be combined, and added to a new duchy which will join the Stormlands Duchy of Dondarrion."

That won some exclamations of shock and consternation as all of the Dornish lords realized the implications, though not from the lords themselves. Those lords had added their men to Oberyn's command, and might well have gone with him on his slash-and-burn campaign. Without those men at home, their lands would fall easily to House Dayne's if they agreed to back the crown, especially since Dayne was more powerful than any two of the others three combined in any case.

But that didn't matter to the lords present, what mattered to them was the strategic implication of the passes coming under the control of a house that disdained House Martell and the rest of Dorne. While invading Dorne would not be easy thanks to its desert nature, if you controlled those passes it was possible. It was also a very pointed reminder that Dorne's semi-independence was at an end.

"Further you and your Houses my Lords, will swear fealty to us personally here and now, or be sent into exile. Your men will be turned over to the royal army without you. You will all serve the Royal Army for five years, and will return home so long as they survive the coming war."

One Lord raised his hand cautiously. "Your Majesty, what do you mean when you say 'the coming war'?"

"The black candles have been lit my Lords." Ranma replied. "The Great Enemy of all life has returned, and this war was frankly a sideshow taking us away from the real one. We must march north as soon as possible to combat it in the North."

'Impossible!" said Lord Yronwood. He was something of a historian, and he understood what Daenerys was talking about, whereas the other Dornish Lords were simply looking confused. "You're talking about the White Walkers, the threat that the Wall was made to defend against? They can't exist any longer, it has been thousands upon thousands of years since they were seen! Besides which, they can't get past the Wall."

"We have seen signs of their return my Lord, and my husband and his Wolfsworn met and destroyed a force of wights that were found on this side of the Wall in the Gift." Daenerys replied, squeezing Ranma's hand to let her answer first. "Magic has returned to this land as well my Lords as you all well now. Is it such a giant leap to assume that the Great Enemy has also returned?"

"I suggest that you all familiarize yourself with those old stories." Ranma said dryly. "We also realize however that your horse archers will be next to useless in winter, your horses will probably die within a few days of heading north, so they will be left here and put to work. However your archers themselves, those can be useful. And as such, you and your men will have the opportunity to win back your honor. Now, will you swear your oath?"

OOOOOOO

"I am so happy that's over. Have I mentioned how much I hate politics?" Ranma moaned, falling face first onto the bed that he and Daenerys had commandeered here in. He turned his head slightly to glare at Daenerys and Merry, who had entered with a few servants who were carrying trays of food. The servants looked torn between giggling or trying to hold it in at his overacting, while Daenerys and Merry showed no such confusion, laughing aloud at him.

"Politics is possibly the thing that person who came up with the phrase necessary evil was thinking of when he coined it, my love." Daenerys said, patting him on the leg for a moment before moving over to the table where the servants were laying out a repast for her, Merry and Ranma. The two of them had waved off any idea of having dinner with the rest of the Lords tonight, wanting to have some quiet time with their friend, which all of their Lords had understood.

They had left Jason, Patrek, Daryn, and Tytos in charge of moving the army through the town to the waiting Royal Navy. Though they could've hoped to have some time to allow the army a break, the time limit was pressing down hard. Even now they wouldn't be able to get the army up to White Harbor within the two month timeframe, though they could come close enough that Ranma hoped they could get by. The four of them and Davos were in charge of that, and the Royals felt they could leave it in their capable hands.

Tonight however, tonight was for the three of them.

"You both did magnificently though. Firm but fair, justice given without anything to hint that it was based on revenge." Merry said, sitting down across from Daenerys she flushed a little as she felt Daenerys's hand on her thigh over her dress before the servants had even left, glaring at the girl who smiled back innocently before removing her hand and diving into her food like one of her no-longer-little ones.

"That coupled with what we did to the armies that face this will solidify our power more than anything else could have." Ranma said shaking his head. "I realize that, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. And I still feel that Dorne is going to be a problem."

"Doran and his son Quentyn, possibly, though our holding Arianne, Elia and Nymeria might make them reconsider striking at us. Though if Doran accedes to our demand that he send us the magister's head, that will remove at least part of the problem. And we left his own fate open-ended. If Margaery and Jon decide Oberyn and his mercenaries have done too much damage, they have the naval power to do something about it." Daenerys shrugged. "We did the best we could this far removed considering the threats in the North."

"With him out of the way, the only true schemer that I do here that still out there is Petyr. But Fenris will see to him however long it takes." Ranma smirked evilly, an expression Merry mirrored for a moment.

"We haven't heard anything more from the Westerlands, which concerns me considering we're going to be heading north and be out of touch from the rest of Westeros." Daenerys shook her head worriedly. "I know that travel times mandate a long turnover, but we should still should've heard something from them."

"Not necessarily." Merry said with this shake of her head. "Where would the ravens have gone? Most of the Westerlands houses wouldn't have ravens trained to travel to the Riverlands. Moreover Kevan, from what I remember of him, was always a thoughtful sort of person. He's intelligent, but he's not going to rush to a decision quickly. And he'd be the only one with the Raven that could get to Riverrun, and from Riverrun to the army a messenger would take what, two, three weeks at best?"

"If that." Ranma said with a sigh. "While the Royal Roads might've been able to withstand the pounding of the army's march, the roads we've traveled since marching east from Harrenhal aren't. It's going to be slow going for most anyone that travels that way. In fact Ser Barristan will probably run into trouble heading down towards Duskendale. The road between here and there is good, but not good enough to stand the pounding and the rain it's taken."

With another sigh he stood up, moving over to join them at the table laying a kiss on Merry's neck and shoulder before doing the same to Daenerys. The three of them simply ate for a few moments, talking about nothing in particular just simply enjoying their time together, mostly concentrating on where along her journey Sansa could be, what could possibly be happening down in the Reach, and Jon and his task.

"I might not like her personally," Merry said shaking her head, "but I think that Margaery will handle everything in the Reach well enough. I've heard nothing but good things about Willas long before this all began, and you saw that none of the surviving Reach Lords had any issue with your assumption of authority over them once Lord Mace died, well save those who you exiled. That speaks volumes about their low opinion on him. But we'll need to do something to tie Highgarden into the fold in the future."

"I'll leave that to Jon as well." Ranma said complacently.

Merry looked at him and Daenerys, her eyes narrowing. "Are you two trying to play matchmaker?"

"As much as we can this far removed, possibly." Daenerys replied, smiling slightly. "But it makes good sense. We'll have to think of some Northern Houses to marry your brother's off to Ranma, to further tie the Starks down into the North, since Bran will be the new Lord Paramount of the North, but Jon's hand in marriage is still a card we can use."

"When Bran's of age, yes." Ranma said with a laugh. "Though I think that teaching him politics and anything about land governance is going to be an uphill battle. I'm glad I can leave my father to it."

Both girls laughed, understanding that he was simply stating a simple truth.

With a sigh Ranma leaned back, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them to concentrate on Merry, who was now giggling at something Daenerys had just said that he hadn't heard. He caught Daenerys's eyes, raising an eyebrow and she nodded with a bright smile.

Merry cocked her head at that smile before turning to Ranma, only to squeak when his lips found hers. Her eyes widened in surprise before closing as she melted against him. Daenerys moved behind her, moving her hair aside to gently kiss her neck.

How they got from the table to the bed remained a mystery to Merry for some time, because the next thing she knew she was lying with her back on the bed, with Ranma hovering over her as Daenerys moved in for a kiss of her own. The two women kissed their tongues out and twinning around one another ardently. Ranma worked on the ties of Merry's dress.

Lemon Warning!

As his two loves kissed Ranma finished pulling Merry's dress apart, carefully lifting the younger woman up at the hips so as to pull her dress down from her shoulders, down her body and off her legs before setting it aside. This left her clothed in a silk chemise which Daenerys was already pushing up from her stomach, leaving her lightly tanned skin their bare. The sight of Daenerys' pale hand against the backdrop of Merry's slightly tanned skin was strangely erotic to Ranma, and he leaned in, kissing Daenerys' fingers and the skin of Merry's stomach all around it while more and more skin was revealed.

He took a special moment to look at the scar from the battle at Darry, kissing all around it and then licking lightly at the scar itself. I hope Darry's roasting in hell somewhere, but whatever torment he's facing in the afterlife is a picnic in comparison to what I'd have done to him had he lived! Shaking his head clear of such thoughts Ranma trailed his lips over to Merry's naval.

Merry moaned then giggled a little as he found a ticklish spot, though most of her attention was still on the kiss she was sharing with Daenerys. After a second she pulled away, breathing heavily. "T-this is no dream, is it? I'm not going to wake up and find myself back in Riverrun before the trials am I? This is really happening?"

Daenerys moved from Merry's mouth to one of her earlobes, nibbling at it gently and running her tongue along the edge causing Merry to moan, lifting her body off the bed as she gasped and shuddered. Daenerys had learned long before this that her earlobes were an especially sensitive spot for the younger girl. "This is really happening Merry, and I think you've been a very good girl having to wait so long for our relationship to… climax… shall we say?"

"Oh that is so bad!" Merry laughed, pushing her away slightly with one hand as she groaned, which had nothing to do with Ranma's continuing ministrations, at least at first. That changed abruptly when Ranma completed Daenerys' task of pushing her silk under garment up above her breasts.

He cupped Merry's breasts gently, marveling at the way they fit into his hand. Not having grown much since Ranma had first noticed them on board the ship up to white harbor, Merry's breasts were smaller then Daenerys', which more than a handful. But both girls' breasts were firm, perky, malleable to the touch and incredibly sensitive. Daenerys' nipples were a pale pink. Merry had surprisingly bright red nipples, which just begged to be sucked.

Never being one to question such things at a moment like this Ranma leaned down, whispering "I love you Merry" before taking one of her nipples into his mouth. He sucked gently at first, causing Merry to moan, bringing one hand up to fist into his hair while the other was busy holding Daenerys' head in place as the two girls resumed kissing.

The two broke off for a moment and Merry moaned aloud "I love you, both of you Seven help me, I love you both so much!"

Daenerys' smiled, her own hand joining Merry's on top of Ranma's for a moment before joining its fellow in pulling her own dress over her head before Daenerys tossed it to the side, shaking out her hair a luxuriant platinum cascade for a moment before she leaned down. Pressing her forehead against Merry's she looked into the other girl's brilliant green eyes, her own violet ones brimming with love and desire. "And we love you. We may never be able to say it public, we may never be able to marry you in front of the Old Gods or the Seven, but we are married Merry."

"Amen!" Ranma mumbled, pulling away from Merry's now distended and glistening nipple. "The three of us are a perfect triangle! Let no man, woman or god come between us." As the two girls began to kiss once more, Ranma leaned back, getting onto his knees for a moment while pulling off his shirt, then turned slightly to sit on the edge of the bed pulling off his pants kicking them aside before turning back to the action.

In those brief few seconds Merry had pulled Daenerys' underthings aside and pulled off her own silk chemise leaving both girls only clad in their panties. Ranma nearly growled, his ardor rising at the sight of the two girls. Their upper bodies pressed against one another, their breasts rubbing against one another while they kissed, Daenerys' rear waving in the air above Merry as Merry writhed under Daenerys' attentions. A wet spot was growing on Daenerys' panties, showing how much she was enjoying this.

Ranma leaned in running his tongue over that wet spot causing Daenerys to lift her head from Merry's mouth crying out "Ranma!" Then she said it again in a far different tone of voice when Ranma gripped the side of her panties and ripped it off rather than pulling them down her legs. "Ranma! That was my favorite pair!"

"I'll get you a new favorite pair." Ranma said with a laugh, beginning to use his fingers on Daenerys' already drenched slit.

Daenerys moaned, shuffling forward slightly to get away from Ranma's touch, turning around and reaching forward to grab Ranma and pull him into a kiss which was mostly tongue. Below them Merry watched this one hand gently kneading her breasts while the other went down to her panties, pushing them slowly down her legs. She wasn't surprised to find that her own panties were almost drenched, the anticipation of this moment, the foreplay that they had just been doing, and the sight above her all combining to overwhelm the, at least in this area, innocent girl.

Ranma broke off the kiss with the Daenerys to lean down to kiss Merry in turn, while one hand gently stroked down Daenerys' back before gripping her small but very pliable rear. Daenerys smiled watching the two, grabbing Ranma's hand and moving it around her thigh so he could get to work again on her sit. She laid down next to Merry, looking one leg over the other girls, leaning in to kiss and knead her breasts.

She had never done this before, and found that having another girl's nipple in her mouth was strangely arousing, as was the moaning coming from Merry. Merry broke her kiss with Ranma, moaning "Daenerys, Daenerys! That feels so goo…." she broke off into a louder moan when Ranma pulled off her panties and one finger gently stroked down her glistening wet petals.

Daenerys briefly lifted her head off of Merry's nipple, licking it sensuously for a second before saying, "In the bedroom Merry, you can call me Dae." When the younger girl's eyes locked on hers she winked. "But only in the bedroom if you please."

Merry laughed. "Dae, I like that!"

"I came up with that at Moat Cailin, was trying to find a nickname for Daenerys that she liked." Ranma said rather proudly, while he leaned back slightly, turning around again to kick off hit his underwear.

When he turned back, Merry couldn't stop herself from staring. Not even Daenerys' continued ministrations on her breasts or the fact that Ranma had gone back to fingering the both of them could take her attention away. She had heard Daenerys and Ranma make love several times and had heard of Dae exclaim about how big Ranma was, but that was a very different thing from actually seeing Ranma's penis for the first time. It was a little intimidating frankly. "That's supposed to go inside of me?"

She didn't realize that she had spoken aloud until Ranma reached down, gently cupping her face and kissing her nose and forehead. "It's supposed to but I promise I'll be as gentle as I can. If you don't want that to happen just yet that's fine. Nothing will happen tonight that you don't want Merry. I love you, the last thing I want to do is hurt you or pressure you in any way."

Merry nodded, but didn't reply either way, simply staring at Ranma's cock before Daenerys turned her head away slightly to lean in for a kiss. That took Merry's thoughts off of her fears, and she returned the kiss ardently, before pushing Daenerys away pulling the other girl up the bed enough so that Merry could work on her breasts for a change, leaning to the side over them and nibbling and sucking at Daenerys pale white skin before latching onto her light pink nipple.

"Oooohhh that feels, feel's good! Very different from you Ranma, but just as gooood!" Daenerys moaned, each word coming out breathy and drawn out.

Ranma laughed, leaning down to work on Merry's breasts once more as his fingers continued to work on both women. Moving his body to the side so that now he was laying within Daenerys' legs he rubbed his now achingly hard shaft against Daenerys' core.

She broke off moaning long enough to look up at him, and nodded, before leaning down to kiss Merry's Forehead. "Watch Merry." She whispered, her voice a sensual purr. "Watch."

Merry did so, her eyes slightly wide as Ranma slowly sheathed himself inside of Daenerys, throwing his head back with a low moan that was the most animal-like yet arousing sound Merry had ever heard, making all of her attempts to overhear their love making pale in comparison. The sight of Ranma's toned, lean body beginning to move over Daenerys' own gorgeously proportioned and pale one was also erotic in the extreme.

Both of Merry's hands moved down to join were Ranma was still gently fingering her core, two fingers joining his own in thrusting in and out of her flower as she threw her head back into a moan. But still her eyes were wide open staring at the sight before her.

Looking at his ladies sprawled there on the bed with Daenerys gently kissing Merry's neck and shoulder as she moaned at his ministrations, with Merry simply washing Ranma piston in and out of Daenerys core he once more noted their different skin colors. Daenerys was pale, the pale of genetics rather than lack of sun. She had never tanned in Essos, and her skin color hadn't changed at all when they went north. Merry's in contrast was slightly darker in tone.

In order to better control himself Ranma closed his eyes, his body now on automatic as he tried to concentrate on other things lest he lose control and end this moment with Daenerys too quickly. They hadn't been able to get together on the campaign since Riverrun after all, and Ranma had found his self-control in this area decreased swiftly. His thoughts rather naturally turned to all the moments the three of them had shared, both Ranma with Daenerys of Merry and all three together.

The first time Ranma and Merry met: how she had seemed a bright yet unloved child. The times they'd shared on the trip down to Kings Landing as he told her and Tommen tales. The amusement Ranma had when Merry decided to feud with Margaery over his affections despite at the time being rather embarrassed by it and her crush on him, not realizing that a crush could grow into something more. The kiss they had shared when he was under the influence of whatever it had been at the tournament.

That first moment when Ranma met Daenerys stood out sharply in his mind. How fierce she had been, how strong she had seemed, simply standing there her clothing burned to ash on her body as she held the two dragons eggs, fierce and unbowed. That first morning on the ship when Ranma had described how to put on a proper hidden dagger, the times he helped Daenerys train her little ones, when they discussed politics, when they simply sat and looked out over the ocean.

The laughter, the discussions, and the jokes they had shared before he had to leave, and his joy at seeing Merry on the ship with his father, when he realized that she had been the one to save his life. The moment later on when he realized that Merry was becoming a woman. The flirting, the discussions of the future, Daenerys and him growing closer, their eyes meeting and being lost in one another as they danced, his proposal and her joyful acceptance.

His and Daenerys' first night together and every night since. The moments Daenerys, Merry and he had shared on the campaign, all three of them growing closer, Ranma seeing the two of them laughing and talking, hugging occasionally, sharing a horses as Merry leaned against Daenerys' back while her arms were around the taller woman's waist.

The realization that he had come to love her in Riverrun, the moment he learned that Daenerys had too. All of those moments passed through Ranma's mind and he kissed them both on their foreheads, unable to put into words what he was feeling right now.

Daenerys pulled away from kissing Merry, throwing her head back and moaning loudly "Raaanma!" as she climaxed. But Ranma didn't stop his thrusts, simply varying their tempo occasionally, driving her to multiple small orgasms one after another.

Moments passed like this, with Merry also orgasming from her own fingers and Ranma's and he began to lose control. He thrust harder, faster into Daenerys, with Daenerys eagerly lifting her hips off the bed meeting him thrust for thrust. "Love you, Dae, Merry, love you both!" Ranma moaned leaning down to kiss first Merry then Daenerys as his hips spasmed cuming hard,, sending his seed deep into Daenerys' womb.

He collapsed boneless on top of Dae for a moment, simply breathing in the scent of her sweat and whatever Dae put in her hair as he recovered from his exertions. He raised his head however to look at Merry as she, sweating and gasping from her own release, started to giggle. "What?"

Merry shook her head, leaning over and running her hands down his back to his rear gripping it for a moment before coming back and pushing into his hair. She pulled her hand away, showing that it was glistening with his sweat. "You're sweating! It's just, I've seen you march or run all day, train with the troops and you never really seemed to sweat, but you're sweating now. It just struck me as funny for some reason."

"I take that as a compliment," Daenerys said archly, pushing Ranma slightly off of her body for a moment, so that she could turn to give Merry a gentle kiss.

Ranma shook his head with a laugh, pulling out of Daenerys gently causing her to moan in something between pleasure and displeasure. Merry watched avidly as Ranma pulled his shaft out of Daenerys, causing a small flood of cum to escape as he did. He was still hard however, and he looked at Merry, leaning down so that their foreheads were touching. He looked into her eyes, a gentle smile on his face. "Yes?"

Merry understood what he was asking and with her body still flushed with endorphins from her recent orgasm, her fear had been swept away. "Yes."

She opened her legs wider, and Ranma moved over until he was kneeling directly between them. Merry licked her lips as she stared down at Ranma's cock, making a note to herself to try it out as Daenerys had once described. At the time it had not sounded very appealing, but seeing it glistening with both Dae's and Ranma's juices it did.

"Just lie back and try to relax." Daenerys said into her ear, one hand gently stroking Merry's hair while the other trailed down her body pausing for a moment to play with her nipples before heading downward again, stopping at the small little hood directly above her slit. When Daenerys began to flick it lightly Merry lifted her hips off the bed, moaning aloud her name. "Dae, don't tease!"

Ranma gently laid his cock along Merry's slit laughing quietly. "I think that's going to become a kind of inside joke isn't it?" Both girls actually giggled at that, though Merry broke off into a low animal like moan as Ranma and gently eased the tip of his cock into her. He paused for a moment watching her, but she didn't seems to be in pain, and he slowly inserted more and more of his shaft into her glistening slit.

Once or twice he stopped when Merry winced. But she was so stimulated right now, with Daenerys continuing to stroke her clitoris and her previous orgasm that the pain didn't really register for long. Each time pain was quickly overwhelmed by pleasure, and she urged Ranma on. "More, I can take it now, more Ranma!"

Soon however he came to a barrier, and stopped, looking at Merry. She nodded, and he leaned down kissing her gently, though the gentleness ended when Merry thrust her tongue into his mouth lifting her hips slightly off the bed at the same time, wrapping her legs around him. It wasn't enough for her hymen to break, but it was certainly enough to break Ranma's self-control, and he thrust forward before he could stop himself, bursting through that final barrier with all the subtlety of a battering ram.

"NNFF!" Merry moaned in pain for a moment into Ranma's mouth, but she did not stop kissing him. Soon the pain of that final barrier breaking turned to pleasure and she thrust her hips up again at Ranma giving him the hint that he should keep going.

The two of them continued their liplock while Daenerys kissed both of their necks and shoulders, breaking off after a moment to kiss Daenerys in turn. Merry began to work on the other girl's breasts while Ranma did the same, one hand lifting from the Merry's waist to start to finger Daenerys once more, making squishy noises as he played with her recently filled quim.

This time Ranma couldn't last as long. Merry was tight, as tight as Daenerys had been their first time, and the sight of the two girls below him, with Merry licking and sucking at Daenerys' nipples also had an effect on his self-control. Merry's continual cry of "harder, faster, love you Ranma!" did not help at all either.

At the same time Daenerys wailed her way to another orgasm from his fingers and Merry's work on her breasts Ranma leaned down, pulling Merry away from Daenerys' nipples for moment to kiss her hard on the lips. Dominating the kiss from the get-go, his tongue thrusting into her mouth, his hips went into overdrive thrusting into her core.

Merry's legs tightened around him, and she screamed into his mouth as she came again, the rippling this caused in her core breaking through his last vestige of endurance. He thrust inside one last time, moaning into her mouth "Merrrrrry!" As he came. The younger woman shook with aftershocks as Ranma came inside of her, feeling the warmth of it, the strange full sensation, before her legs unlocked and fell limply back to the bed.

Ranma rolled over, coming to rest on Merry's other side as Daenerys laughed quietly, kissing Merry on the neck and ear for a second. "Are you still with us Merry?"

"Ruined…" Merry muttered, "Loved every minute of it, but completely ruined!"

Ranma laughed quietly, leaning down to kiss her gently this time. "And we love you." Then he leaned back, a wicked smirk on his face as Daenerys leaned down in turn to kiss her before kissing Ranma as they both looked down at Merry. "But you don't think we're already done, do you?"

Merry looked up at them both, and all she could think of to say was, "Oh my." But her arms were moving without any input from her brain, pulling them both down to her.

End Lemon

Two turns of the candle later looking down at both girls, who were fading into unconsciousness as he watched, Ranma groaned under his throat, just realizing that if Myrcella was here he could not be. We could come up with an excuse for Merry's presence in our bed for an evening, but not if I'm here too. I hate having to hide this! Dammit, I love her just as much as Daenerys does, just as much as we love each other! But we can't show it to the public, even with Merry no longer being able to marry it would be a very bad move socially. Especially considering that one of the first things the septon's council will ask us to do will be to remove that damn law that Joffrey passed about polygamy being allowed in the Royal house.

With that in mind Ranma moved over to the suite's bathroom, where a bath had been filled with water which had long since gone cold of course. He washed himself off putting on his clothing and exiting the room quickly. Down the hallway he found Ser Barristan standing guard at the stairwell heading down.

The knight turned to him, one eyebrow raised and Ranma shrugged theatrically. "I've been kicked out. Apparently Daenerys and Merry wants to have some 'lady's only' time, don't ask me what that's about."

Barristan laughed, though he didn't believe Ranma for a moment. He had suspected for a while that the former princess had fallen in love with Ranma and Daenerys, and was honestly happy for all three of them. They worked so well together, it seemed only natural that they make that union 'official'. Of course that wouldn't matter to the public or to the Faith of the Seven, so he decided to run with Ranma's excuse.

"Best not to inquire my Lord." He shuddered theatrically shaking his head. "I remember when Elia and the Queen would have such discussions. They were remarkably close despite their age gap, and what they talked about, well it would make a hardened soldier blush."

"Should I be worried that are trying to gang up on me or something?" Ranma asked, going with it. It would make a good cover if it got about anyway, which it probably would considering that there were still servants about even this late at night.

"Probably not, though the secrets of your bedroom escapades might no longer be secrets."

"Joy," Ranma groaned, shaking his head.

Ser Barristan laughed again then both men turned as they heard a clanking sound of someone in armor coming up the stairs. A moment later Daryn came into view, his face grimmer than his still wounded leg would allow for. "Ranma a messenger just came in from Riverrun. He says he took a boat from Riverrun, and he must've pushed it badly, because he looks half dead."

He shook his head. "But there's something more, something is riding the man, he's frightened, more frightened than most anyone I've ever seen before." Ehric is with him now, trying to calm the man down. He asked for a septon immediately upon arriving."

"Shiiiit…" Ranma scowled. "There's only one thing I can think of that would scare someone that much."

"That's what I thought too." Daryn replied grimly.

A moment later the two men left Ser Barristan guarding the stairwell, hurrying downstairs to where they found the messenger, somewhat calmer then Daryn said he had been, but still pale faced and shaking as he gulped down wine and spoke quietly to the septon. He stood up, spilling his wine all over his trousers but he didn't seem to notice as he bowed quickly to Ranma. "Your Majesty, a, a message came from Winterfell. Maester Vyman opened it, and shared it with the town council and with me in case I lost the message he gave me to pass on to you. It, it's…"

Ranma held up a hand that held it out taking the message from the man. "I probably know what it says already Ser, and regardless your speed and dedication to duty does you credit. Now get back to drinking and put some real food in you."

With that said Ranma opened the message, tilting it slightly so that Daryn could read it, while behind him the rest of the Wolfsworn, marched in or limped in as the case may be. He read it silently, then looked at Daryn who looked back before turning to the others. "The White Walkers've gotten around the Wall, and we can't get it to the north in time to stop them where they are. Get Rickard up here." Ranma ordered looking over at a guard on the door. "He needs to be told. Smalljon get your father up as well."

Once gathered the two northern lords were told what was occurring, and both of them paled slightly with Rickard paling significantly more than Greatjon. Greatjon simply shrugged after a moment. "Last Hearth'll hold, I know we've got some dragonglass weapons in the armory, and our positions defensible enough." He looked sympathetically at Rickard.

"My son will do his duty." Rickard said stoically, only his eyes showing his growing concern and fear. "But we must head north as quickly as possible!"

"We already were doing that Rickard," said Ranma calmly. "The army's already begun embarking. That process will continue through the night and all through tomorrow." Ranma thought for a moment then stiffened his shoulders, throwing back his head. "But I won't be with it."

"Ranma?" Rickard asked, frowning heavily. "I realize that 'politically'" he said, spitting that word, "you should probably stay here in the south to ride herd on everything going on here but…"

"No, my duty is in the North uncle, and you know it." Ranma said smirking at Rickard sighed visibly relieved. "I simply said I wouldn't be with the army, not that I wouldn't be in the North. I'm going to leave within the hour, and I'm going up to Winterfell."

For a moment none of the Lords understood what Ranma was saying, then Dacey said, "You can't be serious Ranma, Winterfell is months away! It'll be faster to go by sea."

"For the army yes, not for me. At the pace I can go alone, I'll get there long before this army reaches White Harbor."

The Wolfsworn shared glances, most of them angry ones. With their injuries, they couldn't move nearly as fast as they had when they marched on the Golden Tooth, and all of them realized that even that speed had been slower than Ranma, Jon and Arya could move with their direwolves. And whereas most kings' safety would've been an issue, with Ranma it most certainly wasn't.

"You think the White Walkers will march on Winterfell right off?" Greatjon asked after a moment.

"If I was the white walkers, I would make for White Harbor, Moat Cailin and the Wall." Ranma said firmly. "If they can take and hold the Wall, they can bring their forces directly down via the land, they wouldn't have to worry about holding Skagos, no matter how they got to it. Retaking the Wall would be incredibly hard." But I hope my father's thinking about Bear Island as well, he thought to himself, not wanting to alarm Dacey at the moment, she looked angry enough to bite nails already without that worry.

"They're not human, they won't think in terms of cutting the North off from further reinforcements or any other human idea, at least I don't think so." Roger said his voice calm, but his eyes a little wild. Now that it came to it, Roger was not looking forward to crossing blades with the wights once more. That, and his son was in the North as well, his newly born son who had held in his hands for a bare few weeks before having to leave for the conclave and Winterfell.

Daryn was facing similar issues. The last time they'd had a message from the North, his wife, a wife he had barely a few days with before being forced to march off to war, was getting ready to give birth. Hornwood and The Rills were strong, but to defend against the White Walkers?

"That's why I think they'll make for Winterfell if they can. I don't know how they remember things, but I'm certain they know that Winterfell is the center of the North, and one of the most defensible castles as well. You could siege Winterfell forever and never break in, plus I bet Bran the Builder put in some magic in Winterfell's walls."

"Get Davos and Jason in here." Ranma ordered. "Go over the schedule for embarkation, think of any way you can speed it up. Break up the Royal Navy into groups maybe, sending the ships off piece by piece? Any portion of the army we can get into the North quickly, we need to do! I'll leave that to you my lords, I need to leave within the hour as I said, and I have to tell my wife what has occurred."

"Better you than me." Hathan murmured shaking his head and tugging at his goatee thoughtfully. "Much better that you then me."

When Ranma entered their room, his two wives were where Ranma had left them splayed out on the bed, sweat along with various other juices slowly cooling on their bodies. At the sight Ranma shook his head moving quietly through the bedroom into the bathroom. There he found a towel, wet it in the bathtub water and came back, slowly cleaning the two women. As he had hoped this act woke them both up, though Merry fell asleep again almost immediately. The younger girl was utterly exhausted, not having built up the endurance to this kind of exercise that Daenerys had.

Daenerys however was awake enough to frown slightly. Ranma did do this occasionally, but he shouldn't even be here at all, her muzzled mind thought, looking over at Merry. That realization woke her up enough to notice that despite the tenderness Ranma was showing his current task he was frowning. "What's wrong?"

"News came from Riverrun." Ranma replied grimly. "A raven arrived from Winterfell. The White Walkers have found a way around the wall, apparently Theon ran into them on Skagos. They've taken the island entirely, though he survived thank the Old Gods." As Daenerys' eyes widened Ranma went on, detailing some of the information sent and that and send down to Riverrun specially.

By the time he finished speaking Merry was awake if still groggy and without any kind of energy. She laid her head on Daenerys' thigh, staring at Ranma as he finished cleaning her body, shuddering slightly as the towel gently caressed her sensitive parts. Yet to say that Daenerys and Merry took the news that he was going to rush off poorly was an understatement of epic proportions. "Ranma as strong as you are, what do you think you'll be able to do alone?"

"I won't be alone, I'll probably catch up with Timot and the forces under him traveling through the Neck."

"Don't give me that!" Daenerys ordered shaking her head. "You won't stay with that army, it'll move much slower than you will alone, you'll just go racing off again.

"One man alone can do a lot in the right place," Ranma replied quietly taking her hands and kissing them lightly as he stared from her eyes to Merry's. "I have to go. This was why I was brought here! Not the war we've already fought, not the changes we've begun to make to Westeros. Those are side benefits. This, facing the forces of the Great Enemy, is why I'm here. I need to go. The army might not reach the North before the deadline, but I might be able to."

Daenerys stared into his eyes, seeing the honest belief of that there and finally she sighed pulling her hands away with a nod. "Go." She said, then reached forward quickly grabbing him by the ears and pulling him into a kiss that went on for several moments until she had to break it in order to breathe. "Go." she ordered again. But stay safe until we see you again, my love."

"In one piece if you please Ranma." Merry said reaching up to take Ranma by his hair and pulled him down into an equally ardent kiss. "Please."

Ranma nodded at them both. "I will, I promise I will see you both in Winterfell my loves." With that he kissed the pair of them, then walked out the door while the two women turned and began to aid one another in finding their underthings and dresses. Moments later Ranma raced out of the keep, through the town and out into the lands beyond, picking up speed and racing through the night, following the shoreline towards Harroway and the Kingsroad.

OOOOOOO

"I still say we should have fled my love. That was an order that came directly from Eddard Stark! I know you think we can hold out here but..." The speaker was a dirty-blonde haired woman, with something in her shoulders and eyes that told of Flint heritage, but you had to look hard to see it. She was currently sitting up in bed, looking down at her husband, her face twisted in concern.

"Oh hush Moira," said Laris Stonegate. "If we leave, we stand to lose everything we've gained since The Leech overstepped himself." He shook his head. "Just you wait, when our grandsons come around our house will've risen to masterly status! A generation later, we'll be a great house!"

Laris Stonegate was a typical Northman, stubborn, honorable and unyielding and most of the time those traits served him and his family well here on the hard scrabble land of the North. He had been a minor lord beholden to House Bolton, and he had enriched himself since that House's fall. Many more prominent minor lords had reacted poorly to their overlord's fall, leaving Laris to gather up more lands and smallfolk to his own name, even when the minor and great Houses of Bolton's neighbors had split up Bolton's land between them. While Marsh, Bloodtaker and Redflag acted out and were destroyed for it, Laris kept his head down, quietly acquiring the land of his neighbors. Farmers, woodsmen, and one small quarry and the smallfolk working it were now under his family's control.

But while Laris might have enriched his house greatly in the past few years that was a pittance to what he hoped to achieve in time. He knew there was really too much land and certainly too much distance between the seats of Hornwood, Umber, and Karstark to be left without an overlord forever. That was why he and the other few surviving minor Houses had been left to their own devices since. But that couldn't last for more than a few generations before Lord Stark recognized the difficulty, and put a Masterly house above them the better to control and defend those lands.

"That's only if we're here to see it." Moira, Laris' wife, replied tartly. "Which we might not be if all the stories from further north are true."

"Lord Stark's jumping at shadows. He's right to do so if there's even a hint of trouble, but that doesn't mean that we have to leave all I've gained here! Look," he said, reaching over to kiss her hand lightly. "You know we've put up that outer palisade and our house has the special stone fall above the gate! There is nothing that can get through that, and they can't climb up onto the roof so long as we man the defenses."

"I hope you're right." Moira said, but then leaned in and kissed him again on the cheek. Laris smiled, wrapping his muscular arms around her pulling her back down on the bed.

Outside it was still daylight, because despite his confidence Laris was not a fool. He knew the White Walkers always attacked at night so he stayed up at night, while his sons were in charge during the day.

However, he was wrong. The White Walkers might prefer to attack at night, but they were perfectly capable of sending out their wights and other forces during the day. This was why Laris was roused from sleep by the sound of a gong going off elsewhere in his holdfast sometime later.

Laris pushed Moira off his chest, rolling out of bed and grabbing up leather breeches and undershirts. Maybe in the South someone could've simply pulled on their armor and rushed out, but here in the North, even during summer that would be an incredibly bad idea. Now that full winter had come, Laris knew he'd be facing frostbite or worst if he ran out there undressed. It took him some time to pull on his fur leggings, shirt, armor and cloak as well as the heavy gloves his wife had made him several years ago.

By the time he was dressed, his wife had also thrown on her heavy dress, pulling out a short sword and nodding at him as she moved to the doorway. Laris nodded back, rushing out past her and up the stairs. He knew she would check on their two youngest, both girls aged 12 and 10, before taking control of the servants and smallfolk who were not part of the defense. Laris himself raced to join sons, twins of 19, unmarried at the moment though he had hopes, up on the roof of the holdfast.

The Stonegate family's holdfast was a large affair of stone, shaped like a long capital 'I' three stories tall, with heavy ramparts set all along the roof. Around this Laris and his men had raised a wooden palisade in a circle, portions of which were backed with stone from the quarry, though not as much as he could have hoped. Many of his own smallfolk had fled further south when Lord Stark's orders had spread, cutting into his workforce.

He was left with around 60 armsmen, most of whom were on the roof were on the palisade as he bolted up the stairwell to join those on the roof, and another two-hundred smallfolk men, most of whom were at least partly trained archers. As he smashed the trapdoor open, Laris bellowed, "Christian, what are we dealing with?"

Christian was his oldest son by a few seconds and the one in charge during the day technically, though he and his twin Carson tended to split the duty. "We're under attack father, from all sides too!" Christian said, from where he was kneeling behind the parapet, arrow on his bow as he fired rapidly out against…

For a moment Laris' breath left his body and he stared disbelievingly. I didn't believe it, I really thought Lord Stark was jumping at nothing. I should've known better.

What was attacking them wasn't an army of humans, bandits or even wildlings, though at first they look enough like humans to confuse the eyes slightly. It was only when you noticed that they weren't wearing heavy clothing despite the cold, that many of them looked like children and women, and that many of them seemed to suffer from a case of being dead, chunks missing here and there, that you realized what they really were. "Wights." He breathed out, shaking it his head. "Wights like in the old tales!"

They charged silently through the snow, moving as easily as a man would over grass despite the fact that Laris knew there was at least 2 feet of snow out there. And all of them, regardless of apparent age, held a weapon. These ranged from swords of various varieties to hoes, spears and anything else under the sun.

"Arrows don't do anything!" came a shout from the palisade. "We're not slowing them!"

Even as that shout went up the first of the wights reached the palisade, then began to climb up it with their hands, only to be thrown back by many of the smallfolk who had joined Stonegate's family in their holdfast. They thrust spears down at them from the top of the palisade as their fellows tried futilely to kill the wights with their normal arrows.

But the wights didn't simply take this. Laris watched in horror as one man was pulled over the palisade by several wights grabbing his spear point. His scream cut out abruptly when his throat was torn out by a random wight below the wall.

Behind Laris Carson came up out of the holdfast leading up a batch of men carrying bushels of fire arrows. He distributed them quickly, with the men lighting them from the braziers set on the roof. "Fire when ready!" Laris bellowed, nodding proudly at his son before grabbing up a bow of his own.

The fire arrows lanced out, slamming into targets here and there in the horde that was trying to scrabble over the palisade. The wights screamed as those arrows hit, letting loose the first noises they'd made since the battle began. They even retreated here and there from their fellows as those hit by the arrows went up in flames quickly, something in their undead status making them even more flammable than humans normally were. More like a human dipped in tar, Laris thought morbidly as he watched this.

But it wasn't going to be enough to keep control of the palisade, and Laris knew it, not against the numbers of undead hiding along the wall from fire coming from the holdfast's roof. As he watched two more spear-wielders were pulled off the wall and killed, and he saw a wight's hand grabbing the top of the palisade for a moment before a archer used a knife to hack it's fingers off, the wight falling to the ground below.

He moved to the front of the 'I' directly above the doorway into the holdfast, cupping his hands over his mouth to be heard above the clamor of battle. "Fall back! Fall back to the holdfast!"

Even as he did so here and there the wights had pulled themselves up the one story side of the palisade, despite the best efforts of the defenders. Laris turned to Duncan, his face set in grim lines. "Let down some of the rope, then get downstairs and tell your mother to set off the rock fall."

Duncan's eyes widened, but looking at the battle raging outside the palisade nodded his head. "Yes father." With that he was gone, racing along the wall and ordering men to throw down clumps of rope before heading down into the holdfast once more.

Several other men came up with more bushels of fire arrows and the battle continued unabated for several moments while the men from the palisade retreated quickly, more than half of them being pulled to their deaths by the wights before they could fall back. Laris joined the archers firing as well as he could, only to stop and stare for moment.

There on the palisade, a man Laris had seen be gutted by a wight mere moments ago was getting to his feet! They're not supposed to be turned that fast! No stories ever said that wights rose that quickly!

Below he heard a thunderous series of booms, and he smiled grimly. At least they won't be getting in from that direction.

The stragglers of the wall pulled themselves up the ropes from the rooftop, then were forced to turn quickly with spears thrust into their hands by their fellows to keep a few of the undead from following them up the rope. The ropes were chopped in half, leaving the wights who had been trying to climb up them to fall back, scrabbling at the stone of the holdfast.

"That's the way lads!" Laris said moving around the roof, slapping men on the shoulder here and there and shouting words of encouragement as Christian did the same. "Let them scrabble and tried to climb up the walls, there's no give anywhere in them! They'll have to climb over the bodies of their own dead to get up here!" Inside however Laris was wondering if they would do that exact thing, and was very frightened they might.

Despite that pessimism Laris knew his family's holdfast was made very well, with no chinks in the stonework or easy handholds on its wall. With that and the stone fall blocking any wights from coming through the main doors, he hoped they'd be able to hold out until help arrived. How long that would be Laris didn't know, but Laris made a mental note to talk to his wife about starting to ration their food immediately.

Snow began to fall then, obscuring the sunlight, hard and heavy. But the defenders were still able to see clearly enough to target the wights nearest the foot of the holdfast. "Husband the fire arrows," Laris ordered. "We've only got so many of them prepared."

That order was quickly passed around the roof, but torches were easier to make them fire arrows, and some enterprising man headed down into the holdfast, returning quickly with several dozen torches, tossing a lit one down on a large group of wights gathered by a corner of the holdfast, trying to scrabble up its face. "Good lad." Laris bellowed. "That's the way!"

That brief boost in morae disappeared however when suddenly arrows began to fall among them, killing several men. "What?" Laris exclaimed. "Where is that coming from?"

"From the palisade, some wights are on the palisade and they're shooting at us!" Christian roared back from where he was at the back of the 'I'.

The old stories never said that the wights were dexterous enough to use bows! Laris snarled internally.

And yet here they were using them, already taking a toll of his men. The roof's ramparts was good cover, but not that good, certainly not good enough to deal with an arrow storm like what was coming at them from all sides. The wights weren't aiming for the defenders, they were simply shooting large amounts of arrows from all around from the palisade up at the holdfast.

"Duncan!" Laris bellowed, gesturing to his son to join him. "Grab as many of the fire arrows as you can, start at the front, then work your way around. Don't aim for the wights down below, aim for where the palisade is! Let's see if we can set it alight!"

"That's mostly green wood father, I don't think we'll be able to."

"Then we'll at least kill some of those archers! Do it." Laris ordered, cuffing his son upside the head. The youth nodded, racing off and Laris turned back, grabbing up his bow and firing blindly towards the palisade. The snow was so bad now, he couldn't even see the palisade from where he was standing here, and that was only around 200 feet from the edge of the roof.

Fire arrows shot out in bunches from the roof while Duncan and his men moved around the wall, and Laris took stock of the battle. He was appalled to note that there were only about 62 defenders left on the wall, and most of them were with Duncan moving around it now firing at the palisade. We lost that many men already!? That meant he had lost the equivalent of every man that manned the palisade at the start of the battle. And it isn't even night yet…

Still, if we can set that palisade on fire, we'll get some time to rest and restock our fire arrows. I doubt the wights inside the palisade will be able to stick around once that large a fire gets going behind them, they'll break for the areas that haven't been set alight yet. And without the palisade, they won't be able to fire up at us so easily which means they won't be able to use that arrow storm against us again.

But the palisade didn't burn, fires here and there began in the wood but the wood was indeed green, and it was so cold out and the snow falling so thickly that the fires sputtered rather than spread. Suddenly there was a loud crash, and a shout went up from the defenders along the back of the holdfast's roof. "The palisade's gate is down!"

It was only then that Laris realized that the gate hadn't fallen before, after all why would it considering the fact that the wights had been able to climb up the outer wall so adroitly. He wondered why they were opening it now, but got his answer as another shout went up. "Old Gods save us, there's hundreds of them!"

"Duncan!" Laris bellowed, racing that way along the roof. "All archers, follow me!"

Duncan and his men obeyed with alacrity, firing arrows as they reached the edge of the roof down into the massive horde of wights that had just burst through the outer gate. Laris gaped again, watching as a dozen wights led the charge carrying ladders! They're not supposed to be that smart!

But it wasn't the wights that were smart, not really. Wights were dead, as simple as that, reanimated through fell magic beyond the understanding of men. But the White Walkers were now on this side of the wall, and at the moment, this battle was the only one calling for the White Walkers wizards' attention.

The fire arrows broke up the wight horde's charge, but they couldn't stop it. There was now so much snow that when a wight's body fell it was almost immediately smothered by the snow, so fires couldn't spread among the undead ranks. Worse, the archers from the palisade were still firing, still causing casualties among the defenders.

We're losing, he thought to himself, though he did not, would never, say it aloud. We're losing, and there's nothing I can do about it!

Laris jumped forward, joining several other men to push a ladder away from the wall, then running over to the next grabbing his greatsword from his back and hacking and a wight who had just made it up the wall, wielding a halberd of all things, which it had used to slay farmer thrusting down with a spear. Idly, Laris wondered how the thing had been able to climb up a ladder with that, but he didn't let that thought take up too much of his time, instead hacking it to pieces, it's head coming off like a shuttlecock, his back swing cutting the thing's arms off.

For a moment it was all he could do to concentrate on the fight directly in front of him, but he did pause between blows when he heard a distant slamming crash. Though when it didn't continue, he turned his attention back to trying to throw the wights off the roof. He cut down several undead, hacking at their bodies with his greatsword. All around him his armsmen did the same, much more at home with this kind of combat then with archery, though the archers from the palisade were still taking a toll on their men. Though Laris didn't know it, he had lost several dozen men already.

He realized this when he herd Christian's voice. "Aghh, the dead, theeegghhh!"

Laris turned his head, seeing Christian born to earth by several men who had been struck by arrows. They had come back almost immediately as wights, killing his son and several other men before they realized what was going on.

Screaming in fury Laris charged forward with Duncan, hacking and slashing at the wights who had so recently been their armsmen. With those men rising as wights however, the battle on the rooftop was finished. Eventually the two Stonegate men realized this and Laris shouted, "Pull back! We'll close the inner door against them, we can pile up furniture against it or something, but pull ba…"

His thoughts trailed off as men began to come up from below. But these were not just some of the servants or smallfolk who had not joined the defense, but the women and among them were his wife and two daughters. But they weren't coming to help, no. Here and there on their bodies were what were obviously mortal wounds. His lovely wife Moira was missing half of her face. His daughters, the jewels of his life, had their throats slit, possibly by their mother as a last ditch effort to save them from the horror they were now experiencing.

"How?" he said to himself even as Duncan noticed what was coming up from behind them and began to wail aloud in horror. "How did they get through the rockfall?"

The rockfall was a specially designed segment of the roof directly above the heavy oak door into the holdfast. It was made so that when a special capstone was removed from the floor of the second level, the entire roof of the room above the gate would collapse down, blocking the gate entirely. It wasn't perfect, but it would have put several hundred pounds worth of stone in front of the gate, which should have been enough to keep out any battering ram manned by humans.

But it had not withstood the sheer weight of numbers that the wights were able to pile against it. The wights had taken a second battering ram, lashing it to the fist on perpendicular to the first. This allowed them to put more men on the ram, and eventually thrust their way through the rocks.

I was wrong, I was wrong and I was arrogant, and my arrogance killed us all. Laris thought, ignoring the rest of the fight as he stared at his wife and children as they came towards him with glowing blue eyes, dropping his greatsword to the rooftop with a clang. Death, when it came was a mercy after that.

OOOOOOO

The Last Hearth was not called that because it was the seat of the most northern Great House. It was called the Last Hearth because it had been there almost as long as Winterfell, as had House Umber. And like their liege lords, House Umber had never thrown much of anything away something Hother Whoresbane was very happy for. While they didn't have many arrowheads of dragonglass, they had several hundred daggers, and they had the Last Hearth itself.

Stone walls defended a central keep of equally heavy, if inelegant design, which was a bare few feet taller than the walls themselves, with a simple square roof and no ornamentation. Those walls were four stories tall and fifty feet thick, with their feet noticeably thicker than their parapets, with several squat towers scattered here and there. It also had a large gatehouse, the gate tunnel having several portcullises within it. The Last Hearth was able to house practically all of the smallfolk living on House Umber's own lands, as well as many of those of the minor lords beholden to them. Its cellars, several stories deep, were large, well maintained, and currently full.

And we're not without our own friends either, Hother smiling faintly as he watched over 1,400 men marching through the snow towards him, the banners of House Stark, Cerwyn, and the Wull clan flying over their heads. He clumped down the stairs from the gatehouse, greeting the leader of the band as he slipped off of his horse.

"Greeting Hother, I am Ser Alec Willowtree," The man said with a nod. "My Lord Stark sends his greetings, and sent us and Wull allies to aid you in the defense against the White Walkers."

"You made good time," Hother said gruffly, smiling grimly in a face that looked like a mountain carved by a glacier, complete with a beard that looked like the foot of a mountain. "We've heard tell of a few holdfasts attacked, some farmsteads destroyed. Nothing major, nothing organized you might say, just the undead rising from the graves." He shuddered a little. "Never thought I'd see this, tell the truth. I ordered our own tombs disturbed and put to the torch, Old God's damn the need."

Willowtree nodded grimly. "I have a hundred archers from the mountain clans and 400 archers from the lands of House Stark and the rest are swordsman and armsmen. We bring pikes, two large carts full of them and armor, another two cart's worth. Last Hearth will hold my Lord, they'll have to take it over our dying bodies."

"Against any other enemy that'd be good crowd pleasin' shit, against the White Walkers, t'ats precisely the way they'd want ta take it." Hother said shaking his head.

Willowtree coughed, looking a little apologetic, then gestured out past the gatehouse as his men began to move into the small courtyard, the carts with them making their own slow way inside, pulled by the first few teams of trained reindeer from Brandon Stark. "I notice that you and your men were busy outside my Lord, isn't it a little late to try to dig a moat?"

"A normal moat maybe youngster," said Hother still smiling grimly. "But not one like that. We ain't gonna be filling it with water at all, but with something else. Keepin' snow out of it'll be more difficult, still, I hope at least it'll provide a bit of a surprise at need."

OOOOOOO

Jon had marched his forces straight from where they had left the Blackwater Rush towards the source of the Mander making his way down along it in turn. He had also been able to convince the castellan of House Footly to send a message down to Highgarden for him, and had received a reply as soon as possible given the speed of raven's wings. Of course his army had continued its march while Footly waited for a response. They were halfway to Bitterbridge before the messenger caught up with them.

In her brother's name Lady Margaery had, ordered all the lords along his route to pass on messages, and had also sent back all of the barges that Garlan had used in his own journey down the Mander. A few of the barges soon reached the army allowing him to rest some of his troops daily on a rotating basis, and of course also lightening his supply train considerably.

They had just come within sight of Bitterbridge when the scouts shouted back a warning. "Riders incoming! Six of them my lords!"

"More messengers?" asked Beric cocking his head. "I wouldn't have thought that Caswell would be so quick to follow Lady Margaery's commands. I'd have thought he'd bitch and moan so long as she wasn't there in person to glare at him personally, the little streak of piss."

"Lady Margaery's force of personality already surprised me in the messages we've exchanged. I've no doubt that even by raven message Caswell would be overwhelmed quickly."

Beric smiled, nodding his head slightly. "I've actually met Lady Margaery, both when we were in King's Landing and before that at a ball for her 14th birthday. For all that Loras was her father's favorite, I think that Margaery was always the most intelligent of them. Bar Willas perhaps. And when angered, she is a very scary lady indeed, her tongue can flense the bones off a man in moments."

Jon laughed, leading the way through the army towards the front of the column as the rider and the scouts who'd spotted them came into view. "Indeed, her last message showed that intelligence quite clearly, as well as Willas' ability on the battlefield." That message had summarized Willas' campaign in the Westerlands. "Several problems have been solved there without us needing to intervene thank the gods. Frankly I think mothers and daughters everywhere will sing Willas' praises for the destruction of Clegane Hall."

"True," said Beric, biting off the word. "Your brother did a magnificent deed when he executed Gregor Clegane, I drank to his victory then, and I'd do so again in an instant. Honestly if you think about it, that moment began the destruction of the Lannisters mystic of unstoppable ruthlessness."

Jon nodded, and the two fell silent while Edric and Arya came through the army behind them along with Ser Piper. By the time the messenger and his guards reached the front ranks of the marching army, they were all waiting for them to the side of the trial.

"My Lords," the messenger began, bowing his head trying hard not to stare at the odd Wolf/Dragon head banner floating above the army, or the equally strange giant wolves ranged out next to a young woman and man who could only be Starks. "I hail from Bitterbridge my Lords, where we've had a message from Lady Taena Merryweather."

Beric frowned slightly, bringing up one hand to hide his mouth for a moment but Jon had caught it anyway. "What?"

"Lady Taena is a notorious gossiper, and there have been rumors of infidelity around her for years, so much so they spread to my seat in Blackhaven, though obviously none were ever proven. Still, I suppose she is bright, brighter than her husband certainly, and certainly in touch with whatever is going on around Longtable. I would however be wary of taking anything she says at face value."

The messenger held out the message, and Jon opened it, moving his horse slightly to allow Beric to read it over his shoulder. The message was from Taena and detailed Oberyn coming to her for information, saying that in return he agreed not to despoil House Merryweather's lands, before going on to describe Oberyn's long term plans. It ended with an earnest plea for whoever was in charge of the Stargaryen army to try to stop him. Nowhere in there was mention of Taena's role as spy mentioned of course, but neither did Taena shy away from hinting at her 'gossip' skills.

The two of them read through it, glancing at one another when they finished. "This isn't good," Jon said, his tone dust dry and understated, but also very serious.

"Your mastery of the understatement is profound my Lord," Beric replied scowling angrily. "This could be a disaster."

Arya plucked the message out from Jon's hand, reading it quickly before handing it over to Edric and Ser Piper. "Am I missing something here? I mean yes it would be bad for the lands that Oberyn passes through, but you make it sound as if the impact would be much larger than that."

"The area between the Rose Road and the Mander is called the heart of the Reach lady Arya," said Ser Piper shaking his head. "It's not called that because it's in the middle, but because it is by far richest territory of the entire Reach, every single league of that land is farmland given over to the growing of one crop or another. That land could feed the rest of the Reach and then some my Lords, and with the damage already done to the lands around the Mander and up around Goldengrove it becomes even more important. Oberyn could doom the Reach possibly the Stormlands and more to starvation if he puts that area to the torch."

Jon growled, pulling out a map of the area looking over at the messenger to aid him in placing their current whereabouts as well as where he thought Oberyn's army under could be if they had left the keep of Cockshaw and made their way around Merryweather lands. After a moment he shook his head. "We'll never get there in time, even if we all could pile onto the barges Oberyn we'll have crossed long before we can stop him from beginning his campaign of terror again."

Arya frowned, then looked at Nymeria and Ghost. "I, I think I have an idea actually." She looked at the two direwolves.

Catching the look, Jon motioned the others away, leaning close to his sister. "What's your idea, sister?"

"The direwolves take over packs when they try to send messages long distance right?"

Jon nodded, though there was a range limit for that kind of thing. With each successive wolf pack the information passed became less and less useful.

"Well, Ghost and Nymeria are both smart, really smart. We could send them across the river now, have them head down to look for Oberyn's army then take control of some wolf packs around there to harass the mercenaries. You know how horses who haven't been trained act around them. They wouldn't be able to go nearly as fast as if their horses run off every night."

"That's an idea," Jon thought looking down at Ghost. "It could work, but I think we'll need to do a bit more..."

An hour later Arya, Ser Piper, six hundred men of his house, Edric and the two wolves were racing down the river on one of the fastest barges, disembarking two days later. Behind them the army picked up speed, force marching along the river, while the messenger returned to Bitterbridge with a raven message for Lady Margaery.

OOOOOOO

Ranma had passed around Harroway in the night a bare day and a half after setting out but did not stop. People had seen him of course causing Ranma to laugh aloud at the odd looks and exclamations of shock at his appearance and the speed he was moving. Grimaldi even tried to send a horseman after him to discover why Ranma was running through the town like that, but the horse floundered after the first few leagues, while Ranma kept on going.

At the pace Ranma was going even the finest horse would've floundered. Ranma set a blistering pace from the get-go, one even Fenris and the direwolves would've had trouble keeping up with. He ate on the run from a bag of jerky and drank from his wineskin (which held camp water) when he needed it but otherwise just kept on going, stopping only to rest for a few hours every night. In this manner Ranma crossed in a bare four days from Maidenpool through the lands of House Wayn and beyond on the Kingsroad.

Since passing the Vale Road intersection however Ranma had noticed that the Kingsroad and the ground directly on either side of it showed markings which told of an army passing by. At first Ranma hadn't noticed it, simply assuming that it was from the time his own army had passed down from the Ruby Ford. But a little bit after leaving House Wayn's land he began to make a note of it, and became concerned. Is there another army moving about out here? Could the Lannisters or Stannis have brought the Vale into the war? And if they have, how will that army react when they learn the war's over before they could join in?

Early on the fifth day as the sun was beginning to poke over the horizon, Ranma saw scout's moving through the woods slowly. Some of them were on horse, while others were on foot, either guards or scouts Ranma wasn't certain. They didn't seem all that concerned with keeping a watch out to the south of them, which told Ranma where the Army might be headed.

Could it be moving to interdict Crannogtown? While an excellent supply depot, Crannogtown was not very well defended. Despite the palisade around the town really depended on the army smashing any force that could threaten it long before such a threat could get into position to attack it. Or could they be going after Timot and his troops?

Off the top of his head Ranma could not think of the number of Houses and men the Vale could put into the field, a round number of 15,000 was the best he could come up with. An army that large could have destroyed Timot's force, and with it any chance of getting a formed military unit up into the North any time soon. Davos had been very pessimistic about the timeframe for the Royal Navy to travel from Maidenpool to White Harbor, saying it would be at least a month and a half, maybe more. Hence why Ranma was doing this in the first place.

For a moment Ranma debated on whether he should slip into the Umi-Sen-Ken and keep going, trying to pass through the army and figure out what was going on by listening in on random conversation. But if he was spotted somehow, if someone ran into him, tripped him, or more likely, saw his tracks in the mud along the edges of the Kingsroad, he would give a very bad first impression. After all of this point I don't have any real proof that this army's a threat, I'm just being paranoid. With reason, but still…

Eventually one of the scouts noticed him coming up behind them , turning their horses around and staring at the man running at a speed their horses could barely match. "Hold stranger! What's your business here, and where are you going in such a rush?"

Ranma slowed, still jogging forward but slowing down enough while the scouts on horseback galloped back down the Kingsroad toward him at their comrade's shout. Soon five of them were around him, keeping pace with him as he continued forward. Idly he noted that the colors all of them were wearing looked like a Vale House, House Tollett he thought, which made his guess about where this army came from accurate at least. Now to find out what its intentions are.

"I am Ranma Stargaryen, and I am heading home the fastest I can to deal with a threat that has grown beyond the wall. Who are you and who do you speak for?"

One of the men scoffed, reaching forward to grasp the hilt of Ice where it was sticking over one of Ranma's shoulders. "He's just some vagabond thief trying to run away, with a sword he's probably stolen! Look at it, iEEEE!"

That was as far as he got Ranma grabbed his arm, pulling him out of the saddle with ease. Before his fellows could draw their swords Ranma was holding the man above his head as if he was some kind of packing crate. "Take me to your leader!" Ranma ordered, having no time or inclination at this point for games. "Now!"

The four remaining scouts stared at him than up at their fellow who was simply dangling there, as easily as if he weighed nothing all in Ranma's arms. Then one of them spoke to the others. "Didn't the tales about him say that the King had strength greater than most normal men? It… it could be him? Though I question your Majesty why you are out here alone?"

Ranma laughed, gently placing the man he had holding up on his feet. One or two of the men made to move forward their blades half-drawn but the others shook their heads, including the one that Ranma had just sat on the floor. He had no desire to see what Ranma would do if he became angry.

"Like I said, I need to be in the North as fast as possible, and my army can't keep up with me." That won Ranma even more awed looks, and while normally he would've found those irritating at the moment they serve a purpose, so he didn't say anything.

The scouts formed up around Ranma and began to trot forward with him, quickly catching up to the rest of the army which was slowly breaking camp to get on its way once more. The camp itself was a much more sprawling and disorganized affair than any unit Ranma had trained would put up with, and Ranma couldn't quite figure out how large the army was as he was led through it.

Soon the rumor of who Ranma was spread, causing many men to stop what they were doing it stare at him, with one or two of them shaking their heads and muttering questions about his sudden appearance or questioning who he was, let alone why he was there. By the time Ranma was presented to them, Lord Royce and the other commanders of the Army had gathered together in one place in front of the tent they used as a meeting area.

Bronze Yohn looked at Ranma from head to toe for a moment, while Redfort, Templeton and Tollet looked between him and Ranma, knowing Yohn had the best chance of knowing if this was an imposter or not. Indeed Yohn recognized the hilt of Ice on the young man's back, and though it had been a long time he also recognized lizard-lion armor when he saw it. The looks also matched what they had been told Ranma Stark looked like, but that didn't overcome his surprise at the young man's appearance here, especially all alone as he was. "You claim to be Ranma Stark, yes?"

"I am Ranma Stargaryen, first of his name, King of Westeros through right of lineage and conquest." Ranma said smiling grimly. "The sword on my back should have been proof enough Lord Royce, you fought alongside my father in Robert's rebellion didn't you? And I'm certain that Ser Breakstone gave you at least a description of what I look like. Where is he by the way? And more importantly, what are you and this army doing here, heading north?"

Royce looked away from them younger man's even stare. It should have been ridiculous, no king or even minor Lord for that matter would travel alone on foot like this, with no guards no companions, no anything! But beyond the fact that he had Ice, beyond the armor or the looks, there was Ranma's presence, a certain implacable nature that shone through even as he stood there unmoving.

After a moment Royce nodded his head. "Your Majesty, I welcome you to our camp. Young Breakstone parted company with us at the Gates of the Moon, he was travelling back to Gulltown, and we have not heard from him since. As to why we are here, we five represent those Houses in Vale lands that are willing to act, and act for you, though we refuse to raise arms against the Baratheon brothers. How goes that work?"

"Finished," Ranma replied with a thin smile. "Stannis defeated his brother Renly down near King's Landing, and my wife and I defeated him and the forces of the Reach he could call upon. The survivors of the Reach and Stormlands gave their oaths to us and are heading home. Viserys and his army has also been smashed, and a surprise late entry as well."

Lord Royce sagged somewhat, shaking his head before asking hesitantly. "We've heard rumors of Stannis and Renly's battle, and King's Landing's destruction though none of us believed it. But more personally, my liege, my son Robar went into the Reach to see if he could serve under Renly. The last I had heard from him he had been made one of Renly's Rainbow Guard, a pretentious name but even so I was proud of him. Do, do you know if he lives or not?"

"I don't think so." Ranma replied with a wince, derailed from his questions about why the Vale army was going north. "I'm sorry my lord, but from what we were told by the prisoners after the battle about the conflict between Renly and Stannis, none of the Rainbow Guard survived." There were some questions about one of them, but not Robar.

Sighing faintly Redfort reached out to put a hand on Yohn's shoulder nodding his head at Ranma. Though he personally was still wondering if this really was Ranma or not, it was obvious Yohn believed it, so he would act as if he did too. "Your Majesty, please join us in the tent, I think we all need to hear more about what has happened in the rest of Westeros as we were on the march. Though since entering the Riverlands we have heard about the former bastard King and his death, and the destruction of King's Landing as my friends said."

Ranma was ushered into the lords' tent, and filled them in on what had gone on since Breakstone had been sent to talk to them. The news of Melisandre's magics and the pretender Aegon appearing backed by the Golden Company caused exclamations of shock. Their defeat, and the death of two dragons, though Ranma didn't mention how he had killed one of them personally, caused even more. His brief description of the trials after however made every lord there smile or nod, seeing that Ranma was more interested in justice than vengeance, which spoke well of his ability to rule.

"But that was then, now I am needed in the North because of a threat rising from beyond the wall, something which I believe you know already." Ranma finished, staring around at them all with a faint smile. "Or is my mind playing tricks on me when I remember that House Royce kept to the Old Gods?"

"You do not misremember Your Majesty. My House has followed the Old Gods since our founding, We Remember." Lord Royce pulled his tabard to one side so that the runes on his armor could be seen underneath. "Magic has returned, and when I last stood in front of my castle's weirwood tree I felt a call north. I was able to convince my fellows Lords to join me, and we have been on the march now for months."

"Good." Ranma said with a nod. "I already sent some of my army up north nearly two months ago. They should be nearing the Neck by this point, but every sword helps." Ranma frowned. "But now that the war is over, will the Vale still stand separate, or will it rejoin the fold as your initial words indicated?"

Royce looked at his fellows for a moment, then back at Ranma and finally bowed his head. "Your Majesty, we wish to join you, let the Westeros be whole once more. But we have to say, the Vale lands are divided. The mountain clans have been causing more and more trouble, forcing us to keep most of our forces home to combat them. That began long before this war. Jon Aryn's widow is a mad woman your Majesty, which has caused a break between the Houses of the Vale in regards to how to deal with her. I mean no disrespect I know she is your aunt but…"

Ranma shook his head. "I'll never take offense at the truth, Lord Yohn. We heard about Lysa's madness even in the Riverlands. In fact there were rumors of it before I even left Winterfell. Did you leave enough men behind to protect your lands against these mountain clans?"

"We did, but not to hunt them down on their own lands. Fighting the mountain clans in the mountains is hard, dangerous and costly work."

Ranma nodded thoughtfully, going over the list of the portions of the Army that would not be heading north with the Royal Navy. He also tried to remember who else among the lords present counted as the most powerful lord besides Yohn. "Tell me, who did you leave behind to speak for the Vale in your stead?"

"Lord Belmore, Your Grace." Redfort replied. "He commands a small force keeping a siege going on at the Gates of the Moon, or did when we left. We did not anticipate any trouble with Lysa but we wanted to make certain that the woman could not get any messages out to her erstwhile accomplice Petyr, and we wanted a force in place to take over the Eyrie when Lysa finally made her men snap."

"She was allied with Petyr?" Ranma asked sharply, wondering if the man had maybe tried to head to the Vales, and wondering what sort of mischief he could get up to there before Fenris ran him down.

Tollett scowled, actually spitting to one side. "Bah, allied she practically went to pieces when news of the siege on King's Landing reached us! Lysa told her men she wouldn't do anything until he arrived to 'advise' her."

Lord Royce scowled angrily. "We have since heard news of the attack on Gulltown thanks to one of my factors sending a raven to the Bloody Gate. We know who attacked, and who sided with them, House Grafton was known to have close ties to House Baelish. Might I ask…"

Ranma shook his head. "None of House Grafton's men survived the battle. Nor did any from House Moore. As for Petyr himself, he will be dealt with. I have my best… man… on the job."

Redfort frowned, wondering at the odd pauses there, and the smirk on Ranma's face as he said the words. None of the other's however noticed anything unusual and they merely nodded, satisfied.

Ranma however had already moved on, and the topic brought Redfort's attention back to him very quickly. "Tell me Lord Royce, your House and Lord Redfort's have not intermarried for quite some time, correct?"

Both lords got the implication of the king bringing that subject up immediately, looking at one another while the other three Lords murmured in surprise, though they were mostly approving. Redfort and Royce had been the leaders in this entire endeavor and had kept the Vale if not united then largely at peace barring a few scuffles they'd heard about up further north between Corbray, Lynderly, and Coldwater. "Indeed, our Houses have not married into one another in generations my Lord."

Ranma nodded. "Parchment and quill." He reached into the pouch where he kept the jerky and asked. "Oh, and if I could get some more jerky and some camp water, please?

One of the servants ran to fulfill that request, bringing back camp water and jerky enough to fill Ranma's pouch and wineskin while he wrote out two messages on different pieces of parchment. Eventually he finished, setting them down on a table, writing out his name, as well as that of his wife before stamping both of them with the Royal seal which he kept on a ring around his neck under his armor. Daenerys kept hers on her finger along with the ring Ranma had given her.

"This," he said holding out one of them up "Names you and Lord Redfort as the crown's duly appointed representatives in the Vale lands. Essentially this places you as first among equals, able to make decisions together that affect the Vale as a whole. This will also allow you or your own representatives to mediate disputes between your fellow lords. It also states that once your Houses intermarry, that the couple's son will become Lord Paramount, and the start of a new House to rule the Eyrie."

That son would in turn be sent to the Royal House to ward, but Ranma decided not to bring that up just yet. After all, it would be years, maybe a decade or more before any such thoughts were necessary.

Lord Redfort and Royce exchanged proud smiles, and nodded formally, with Yohn speaking for them both. "Your Majesty, we accept this charge humbly, and will do everything we can to prove your trust in us is not wasted."

Ranma smiled, nodding his head before holding up the other message. "I would like one of your most trusted commanders to take this one down to Harroway. Quickly if at all possible, my army tends to move much faster than yours, no offense meant. It will command about 2000 men of my army to head into the Vale and meet up with the various Houses there to solve the issue of the mountain clans."

Those two-thousand would be taken from Silas' command, made up of the troops that wouldn't be embarking on the Royal Navy in Maidenpool. After all, the Riverlands cavalry wouldn't be worth much in the North anyway, and devoting those men to this campaign now might free up four times their number of troops from the Vale. The mountain clansmen might bitch about it, but I bet they'll like what I offered in payment. Transporting and paying for stone enough for them to make their own keeps up in the mountains is one heck of a carrot considering what it could mean for them long term.

Lord Royce nodded over to his son Andar, who had stayed silent and watching the proceedings since Ranma had entered the tent. "This is my son. He will head back to Harroway immediately my Lord with five hundred men. They will aid your men in this task, though I don't know if 2000 men will be enough."

"They will if they go about it sensibly." Ranma said complacently. Silas had impressed him, and Tristan seemed to have a somewhat decent head on his shoulders so long as he kept his temper in check. And that kind of combat was the sort of thing that Silas would take to very well. Using light and heavy cavalry for the task is going to make it harder, but the mountain clansmen should make it easier. And maybe they'll even be able to talk their fellows to giving up their raiding for a while. Doubtful, but I can dream.

Ranma nodded, then held up the third message. "If you present this at Crannogtown you'll be allowed onto the ships there. The galleons will transport your army up to White Harbor, which will get you into the North that much faster and hopefully closer to where you can do the most good my Lords."

There was some murmur among the Lords at that, who hadn't considered that possibility before this. Indeed the strategic implications of Crannogtown had entirely passed by them, but they approved of the idea of course.

"And by that time hopefully the first consignment of dragonglass weapons will have arrived as well," Ranma went on, "which will give your men enough weaponry to do some good against the White Walkers. For my part however, I have to keep going."

"You won't stay with us Your Majesty?" asked Tollett in surprise. He was still having trouble with the idea of a king simply running up off like that or indeed having the ability to keep moving through the area that Ranma had described so quickly, but the ring, the way he talked and his tale of the war had given enough evidence of Ranma's identity for him.

Ranma laughed. "Normally I would, but I'm under a time constraint." He stared seriously at Lord Royce then around at the others. "You spoke of feeling a pull to the north Lord Yohn, but I had a vision."

He waited for their shocked exclamations of surprise to fade before going on. "When we were near Harrenhal, I went to the Isle of Faces to pray to the Old Gods. There I received a vision, a vision that foretold disaster if I was not in the North within two months. But I couldn't leave Stannis or Viserys behind me to, not even considering Aegon and his sudden appearance. So right now, I simply have no time to waste."

There was a moment of silence, then Royce nodded his head grimly. "May the Old Gods favor you my Lord, and we will see you again in the North."

Ranma nodded, exchange handclasps with him and the other Lords then left the tent, sprinting out of the camp and further toward the North. Within moments he was out of sight still gaining speed leaving behind bemused, awestruck, and worried Vale Lords. Lord Hardyng, a normally silent fellow, put their worry into words. "In the long term our fortunes might well be on the rise my Lords, especially if the Royals spread the idea of more cities and suchlike which the king mentioned as some of his carrots to the Westerlands. But right now, right now I don't know what to make of our fates and I'm very much afraid of this winter is going to be the worst in all of Westeros' history."

OOOOOOO

Lord Manderly greeted Salladhor Saan in the Merman's Court where the fires were raging warmly, something that Saan was very happy about even with the brief trip through White Harbor from his ship. Sailing up to White Harbor from Dragonstone had been arduous, dangerous, and above all cold! He had sailed northern waters before, even up to Ib Nor a few times on the large island of Ibben, but with winter here the temperature was far worse.

Worse his ships crews had not truly been prepared for it. Most of them had some clothing able to deal with the cold of a night at sea, but not to this extent. He'd lost several dozen sailors, possibly even as many as 100 throughout his fleet to frostbite and cold related accidents, and he had still more down with flus and other ailments. He related this all too Lord Manderly before opening up discussion on payment for his fleet's merchandise, because he knew Manderly had a reputation as a shrewd and dangerous opponent when it came to the bargaining table.

To his surprise however Lord Manderly simply nodded. "Show my factors the weapon's you've brought us, and we'll pay the promised price: one silver stag for every two arrowheads or one dragonglass dagger, with spear points costing two silver stags. And, if you agree to continue to supply us with as many as you can until the Bite freezes, we will furnish your entire fleet with wintertime clothing for free, as well as housing here and on Three Sisters every time your fleet stops here for two week. Every Captain will get another 400 golden dragons upon the receipt of every cartload's worth of good weaponry their ship brings in."

For a moment Salladhor Saan was silent. While he would prefer to deal entirely in gold, silver still clinked just as nicely in his pocket. But... "That is indeed the amount I was promised, but I have to wonder why you're offering it. Is it true, the, what are they called, the Others, have they really returned?"

"Yes they have. We have verifiable attacks occurring everywhere along the Bay of Seals, and they are slowly spreading. I myself have ordered the cities cemetery to be exhumed and all the bodies within put to the torch. I know that many other lords have done the same to any burial place they know of that doesn't have weirwood trees over or near it. The Old Gods fight the Other's influence, or so the old tales I've recently studied say."

"But because of that we are in deep need of those weapons. I will pay the price we agreed upon your arrival with this shipment could well be the difference between life and death for many." Wyman's eyes and face hardened, locking onto Saan's own, causing the much thinner man to stiffen slightly. "But no more. We might need more of those weapons down the line, but I won't be gauged, whatever our need. Am I clear?"

Salladhor scoffed, but after a moment nodded. "Very well, I agree to the price. Shall we get our pursers in here to do write up the paperwork?"

The Lysene pirate had fifteen ships to his command, each of them able to carry about twenty carts worth of goods, mostly in barrels or packing crates. Lord Manderly kept three, distributing the daggers and arrowheads among his men. Four shipments were reloaded onto river barges here before being transported up the White Knife to Winterfell and Cerwyn.

The rest of the shiploads of precious dragonglass weapons were handed off to Lord Manderly's fleet. Two would be brought up to Widow's Watch. Two more were sent one each to Ramsgate and Oldcastle, while two more would be transported from Ramsgate up the Broken Branch river into Hornwood territory, along with a force of archers and armsmen from White Harbor and Ramsgate to defend it until it reached Hornwood. While Ramsgate, Oldcastle and Widows Watch did not have ports or even wharves, they would still be able to take possession of their new weapons much faster from the sea. The last shiploads were given over to five Manderly war galleys, who would head up to the Sunstream where they would hand over their goods to river barges which could take them up to Karhold.

The North now had the weapons they needed hopefully. Now it was just a matter of getting them where they could be the most use.

OOOOOOO

Sansa arrived in Crannogtown without incident, exchanging greetings with the men there absentmindedly while she once again thought long and hard about the two young men that were accompanying her. The past few weeks had been tough in that area, both of them had definitely put their best foot forward in the 'contest' as it were. She giggled at the thought, remembering the times she danced with Ben or exchanged puns with Edd, much to the chagrin of all around them. It had felt nice to be the center of attention of two young men, without feeling any kind of pressure on her to make a choice.

Edd had surprised her a time or two, not with his sense of humor which she had of course known about, but with his gentle nature in other ways. I wonder, she thought now is it a sign of strength that you can afford to be so gentle? Ranma is the strongest man I've ever met, and he's one of the gentlest too. Or is it just Ranma's training that make people so? That he instills some other quality along with physical skills?

With a shake of her head Sansa sighed. But even so, Edd's like family! It'd be so wrong! Whereas Ben... Ben was all Sansa thought she had seen in Joffrey and more, he solid in a way that Joffrey at his best had never been able to pull off. He was witty, charming, handsome, well read, and knew the Riverlands like the back of his hand. Sansa was not blind to the fact that would be a tremendous help to her in days to come, but really it was small part as to why Sansa felt she had fallen for Ben Blackwood. No, my decision was made between these two long ago, but should I tell Edd now, stop leading him on? Though honestly, I'm getting the impression these days he's sort of realized it.

Sansa's sigh turned into a frown suddenly when she heard a snippet of a conversation. Moving over to the dockworkers who were talking, she smiled at them, causing their initial start of surprise and bows of obeisance to stop. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't help but overhear what you were talking about? Rumors from the North?"

"Yes my lady." said one of them, a worker from White Harbor. "There's been rumors of strange happenings, and Lord Stark put out an order to all the smallfolk pulled back to the Great House's castles, not holdfasts!"

The crannogman he had been talking to nodded as well, looking up at Sansa from where he stooped. "Milady, the White Walkers have returned, somehow found a way around the wall they have! Lord Stark, he's hoping to trade land for time, so says my Lord Reed."

"If Lord Reed says it, I'll believe it. He's a good friend of my father, and has been a firm friend and ally to our entire House since long before I was born." Sansa said smiling at the man who puffed himself up at her words. "Could you tell me more about these rumors?"

The two men did so quickly joined by several others eager to speak directly to the Flower of Winterfell. The tales were garbled and disjointed but still gave Sansa a picture of what was going on in the North. The news must've reached Winterfell almost at the same time we left White Harbor! That's truly horrible timing, I could wish to be with my family at a time like this but the Riverrun does need a lady, now more than ever. We'll have to keep going.

But, Sansa thought as she looked over at where Edd and Ben were talking to a few of the other guards that would accompany them on the rest of the journey. But that doesn't mean Eddie has to come with us. He could do a lot of good if he turned back now.

When she broached the subject however his response was short and unequivocal. "No. Ranma asked me to see you safely to Riverrun milady, and that is what I will do! I know about the troubles in the North, I've heard the same rumors, and remember Karhold's a lot further north than Winterfell. But even so, I gave your brother my word."

Sansa leaned close, speaking in a soft voice. "Eddie you, you know that that I don't look at you the way you want me to. That isn't, it's not going to change if you stay with me till Riverrun. Ben and the rest of my guards can see me to Riverrun just as well as you can, but you could do a lot of good up north."

"I could, And I do know that." Edd replied. He sighed, looking away then back at her. " It was a bit of a wrench," he said, the pain on his face showing that for a moment to Sansa who had to stop herself from throwing her arms around her. At the moment it would send out the wrong message, either way he decided to take it. "It's just, you grew up to be such a gorgeous woman! I had a crush on you were a young girl, but now…"

Sansa blushed a little looking away but it wasn't the first time that Edd had complemented her in that manner. "Eddie, it wouldn't work. Dynastically it might be a good idea, but I don't think of the two of us could be happy together."

"And that is why I'm willing to say I've given you up." Eddie shook his head with a faint smile which still hinted at pain. "I've seen you and Ben, the connection forming there. And I do want you to be happy. Moreover, my own tastes in the personality of women have changed, if not in their looks. You're right, I don't think the two of us would make one another happy in the long term."

He shook his head. "But that has nothing to do with my promise to your brother. That promise still holds power over me, and until I see you safe to Riverrun, I will guard you with my life." He smirked suddenly. "And though I've given up on you, that doesn't mean I'm going to give you and Ben any more alone time together. Just because I'm over you doesn't want me I want to see you kissing another man."

Sansa laughed and slapped him on the shoulder blushing hotly as she denied the very idea and their time in Crannogtown passed quickly. The next day they were on their way towards the bridge at the twins or the former twins. Ranma and Daenerys hadn't yet decided on a name for that area just yet, which would fall under royal control of course. The bridge itself would still be important place for trading and transportation despite the canal further down the river, but no one want to see another house rise in the area, so the guard detail had remained there since the Twin's destruction.

There they picked up a dozen men of House Stark who Sansa took from the guard detail adding them to her personal household. "It would be good," she said to them, "to have men I know and trust with me and Riverrun no matter how warm a welcome I receive."

They all acceded to her command eagerly, and the trip went on. Once over the Green Fork, they immediately turned south following the Green Fork for several days, passing by the area where the new canal was being worked on then moving on toward Fairmarket.

OOOOOOO

After the expedition across the Mander had left, Jon and Beric set a blistering pace for the rest of their small army. Rotating as many men onto the barge as they could they sped along the side of the river quickly, moving day and night with only a few hours per night given over to rest. The men would have complained if not for the fact that Jon and Beric kept going tirelessly, though Beric notably had to change horses several times, and tie himself into the saddle at night.

Near to Longtable they met more barges and a surprise, because the barges were not alone. A force of archers had travelled upriver on them. Their leader, a young man of Jon's age about as his men paused. "Lord Stark, I am Ser Kevin Conklyn. "Lady Margaery sent me and my men to aid you in this battle. We are yours to command."

Jon nodded, while Beric gleefully slid from his saddle, refusing through force of will the urge to rub his battered bottom. "I'm glad to have you, archers is one area we're not well supplied with, we only have around 300 with us at all. Yet I'm surprised, given what the tales tell of her courage at Oldflowers, I would have assumed that Lady Margaery would've come herself."

That was only half the truth actually Jon was interested to see if the reality of Lady Margaery would match up to the tales and not just that one. Ranma had talked many times about Lady Margaery and their interrupted courtship in King's Landing, and Ranma made a point of emphasizing her intelligence, not just her beauty.

Kevin laughed. "She meant to, but her grandmother and Lady Tyrell put their feet down. Margaery was fully prepared to try and sneak out, but Lady Olenna bribed her personal maid to put a sleeping drought in her food the morning we were due to leave."

"Mothers and grandmothers are like that I suppose." Jon laughed shaking his head. "But how many men do you have with you?"

"Near to a thousand five-hundred my Lord and also bring have enough bushels of arrows to fill up a barge from stem to stern. I'll warn you, not all of them are the best quality archers, but every little bit helps, as the saying goes. Most of them were raised from Highgarden and the lands surrounding it in the past few months, so have only been lightly trained but they're all strong enough to keep pulling a bow for as long as we need them to, even if their aim isn't the best."

Jon nodded, staring thoughtfully at the river. "For what I have in mind, I don't think their quality will be an issue. Can you tell me about the lands around the bridge that Oberyn is making for?"

Ser Conklyn nodded, and as the unit commanders joined them he described the lands there. There was a small but very fruitful grove of trees that began about three hundred feet away from the small road leading over the bridge Oberyn was making for. Of course the road itself was clear, but the grove itself might make for good cover.

"The other side is mostly clear, a few farmsteads here and there and of course wheat fields, but no place where you could set an ambush my Lord. Not one large enough to stop an army Oberyn's reported to be at any rate."

"So the apple grove, or rather right before it begins would be our best bet." Jon mused aloud, looking at the river again. "How far away from the bridge are we?"

"At the pace you apparently set my Lord? I… I would estimate another two days or so?"

"We won't be going that pace." Jon said with a quick shake of his head. "Unless you say that Oberyn is within sight of the River again."

"No my Lord. As Lady Taena reported he swung out wide of Merryweather land. But he's also slowed down considerably according to the smallfolk that have fled his army's approach. They say he's lost nearly all of his horses in the past few days."

Jon nodded grimly, wishing he could send a mental feeling of pride and satisfaction to Ghost just then. "Good, in that case we'll slow the pace for now. I'm going to send a little of half of your archers back down the river to the other side of that bridge. But first I want to use one of the emptier barges to get several hundred of my men down there who know how to handle axes and shovels."

He looked around at his commanders, the knight and Beric for a moment. "Let me make one thing perfectly clear. This will be a pure ambush. No discussion, no parlay, no chance for peace. Oberyn has led a mercenary army reaving, raping and murdering its way across the Stormlands and the Reach. Every man in that army is under a death sentence, mercenary or no. And we will be carrying that sentence out."

His lips pulled back into a snarl that any direwolf would have been proud of and the others smiled grimly as well. "You'll get no arguments from us Jon." Beric growled speaking for them all.

OOOOOOO

The siege of Karhold began one evening without warning. Arrows began to rain upon the outer wall from the forest surrounding Karhold, despite it having been cleared back from the castle for the most part. Quickly the shout went up from the defenders. "Wights!"

Then quickly put a fire arrow to a brazier, raising his bow and pulling back on the string searching for a target. Seconds later hundreds of fire arrows were in the air, impacting the attacking horde as it came out of the woods from the walls of Karhold. A warcry ripped out of hundreds of throats as the defenders prepared to defend the seat of one of the most powerful Great Houses of the North. "The Sun of Winter!"

Archers among the wights began to fire back while the remaining wights raced on, moving over the snow which lay heavy on the ground by this point.

Theon pulled back on his bowstring, letting fly with such force that the arrow hit his target hard enough to propel it back into four others behind it. Two more fire arrows quickly followed impacting the wriggling mass of undead, lighting them all on fire.

As the fire arrows continued to streak out, there was bellow from the woods like a giant beast, or maybe a many of them, roaring aloud in anger or fear. Theon frowned looking over at Torrhen, who had raced out onto the gatehouse's roof with him. "Wights don't make noises, what could be out there?"

"I don't know." Torrhen replied, pulling back his own bow with another fire arrow on the string. "Keep firing!"

The battle continued throughout the evening and into the night, with the defenders rotating shifts every time a candle set into the gatehouse burned down. But it was at night when the White Walkers pressed their attack. As the sun sank below the horizon the temperature began to plummet precipitously far quicker than it should have. Men began to complain of frozen fingers, and the cold slowed the rate of fire from the defenders tremendously. The wights pressed forward, their own archers beginning to get mastery of the defenders here and there despite paying for it with hundreds of their own dead, but what did that matter to them?

From his spot on the gatehouse's roof, Theon had taken a moment to examine some of the wights with a Myrish spyglass, which he idly thought must've cost House Karstark quite a pretty penny. Most of the dead from the battle so far must've come from the graves of people here on Karstark land, or from elsewhere near the Bay of Seals. There weren't any newly dead among them save a few of the archers at the far back.

He told Torrhen this, and the man frowned angrily, moving away from the parapet, though they still had to almost shout to be heard above the tumult of battle. "They're softening us up then for the real blow." He looked at Theon, scowling angrily. "You're right. They don't attack like a normal army would, they're not retreating they just keep on coming, and the cold, it's at their command too isn't it?"

"Probably." Theon replied with a nod, not saying anything like 'I told you so'. There was no time for such now. "I think we should light those fire traps up now, and try to keep them going through the night."

Here and there stumps of trees had been left in place. Elsewhere large tree trunks had been left on the ground, with the snow kept off them, and some scrub brush piled on top. The undead steered clear of those places instinctively, but still dozens of the wights screamed and died when they were set alight.

Several moments of silence passed between the two young men while they watched the results of this little surprise. But then Theon shook his head. "It won't be enough." This was only the truth. After those initials losses to the firetraps, the wights had steered clear of them and kept on coming, their archers continuing to fire back and cause casualties among the defenders while others brought up large ladders. "Besides, we still don't know what made those bellows from earlier. I get a feeling the White Walkers have more surprises in store for us."

He stared earnestly at the other young man and Torrhen growled in frustration, but before he could reply a shout went up from the back wall facing the river. "The Sunstream's starting to freeze! I'm seeing ice on it!"

The two young man raced along the wall to the keep, racing up out onto the roof, where they gazed over the parapet at the water of the river, which was indeed freezing. Even as they watched some of it slowly froze by the dock set against the castle's wall, and more than one men on the large barge moored there, one of two in the river at present, was staring over the side. Theon turned back to Torrhen, reaching out to grab his shoulders, shaking the man hard. "Retreat now! Retreat now before we can't any longer!"

Torrhen stared at him, then down at the waters, before turning back to stare out over the battlefield, before nodding reluctantly. He turned away shouting for a runner, and soon enough people, smallfolk from the last batch that had retreated into Karhold along with the servants and all of the womenfolk were rushing out to the waiting ship.

"RAHHHHH!" They had left it too late. There was a roar from above rather than the surrounding woodland, heralding a new surprise from the White Walkers.

Theon turned to stare up, his eyes going almost comically wide as something flew through the night above them, something huge with vast wings of bone and pockmarked sinew. "What by the gods old and new…"

From the smoke obscuring the sky above the battlefield a large maw appeared on a long serpentine neck, snaking down and ripping a man on a tower in half, caring away his upper body. A moment later as the thing's wings' disturbed the smoke enough to let everyone on the towers and walls see it, a long tail lashed out, smashing two more men from the wall as a cry went up made of equal parts fear and shock. "A dragon, an undead dragon!"

"A wight dragon…" Theon growled, while Torrhen stared up into the fire-lit night in a futile attempt to track its course. "I wish I could say now I've seen everything, but I'm afraid the White Walkers might take that as a challenge." Theon frowned staring up into the sky himself, a fire arrow ready on his bow.

"You think you'll be able to hit it on the wing?" Torrhen asked, knowing Theon had the best chance of something like that.

"I'll be able to hit it, whether or not a single arrow will do the deed, that's up to luck." Torrhen nodded, and raced off back to the gatehouse, to take command of the defense once more.

The undead dragon made three more appearances in the next few candles, and each time Theon tried to put an arrow into it only to watch as his fire arrows skipped off its scales. In response the dragon let loose a cone of freezing air, so cold it actually froze humans into ice if it hit them full strength. Over a dozen men died each time it appeared.

Theon's desperation grew with every arrow he expended on killing it. He moved from tower to tower and wall to wall, trying to anticipate where the dragon would attack from next, only to fail nearly every time.

Faced with this, the cold, and the wights, the men began to falter, but with Torrhen and his chosen commanders exhorting them all they continued to defend the castle while the last of the servants rushed out of the castle to the waiting ship. That ship pulled away, heading down the river quickly thanks to desperate punters polling it from along its side before the wind caught in its sails.

At a signal from Torrhen, one man in every three began to retreat from the walls as the second barge pulled up to the dock. Its crew were fearful but determined, several dozen men aboard also taking shots on the far bank, though very few wights had appeared there just yet.

Unfortunately thanks to the defenders retreating and the dragon taking so much of their attention, the wights now had come close enough to the castle in enough strength to throw up ladders here and there along the outer wall. Once this was done they began climbing up them with the speed of spiders despite whatever shape their body appeared to be in. Then a battering ram was brought against the front gate, and despite the fires begun in several of the wights all around it, they began to batter at the gate.

At the same time, the wight's arrow assault redoubled. Theon turned as one man screamed aloud, a loud whining sort of wail as he fell backwards. He saw the man had been hit in the shoulder and shook his head. "Walk it off you fucking coward!"

The man continued to scream, convulsing in place, quickly expiring to Theon's intense surprise. He ducked back down below the parapet, reaching forward to the man's corpse, grasping the arrow shaft, hissing and pulling away quickly. Despite his leather gloves his hand had practically frozen against whatever the shaft was made of. The man to was cold to the touch already, but that didn't stop Theon from setting a torch on his chest, where the fire caught on the man's fur coat.

He stood up, staring out into the night, trying to see this new force of archers when Torrhen's voice reached him from the gatehouse roof. "Fall back to the keep! Fall back!"

Theon saw that several dozen wights had gotten up onto the westernmost wall and had slain several of the defenders. Those defenders rose in turn, and had to be hacked down by their fellows. As he watched the eastern tower came under attack from the dragon, the men on its roof dying from its breath attack and claws. He quickly loosed the arrow he had on his string, reaching for another only to watch in despair as both of them bounced off the dragon's snout, doing no damage.

More wights began to make their way onto the wall as Theon continued to watch, a feeling of despair filling him. He looked around, noticing now that several others had reached one of the nearer towers cutting him off from the stairwell down to the courtyard and to the rest of the wall.

Looking down at the ground he saw a nearby pile of hay that had been slated to be brought up and tossed over the wall before being set alight. It didn't look particularly solid, but it was certainly better than trying to fight his way through the armsmen around him and the wights now coming over the wall in several places near him. With a roar of "Old Gods damnit!" Theon hurled himself off the wall, slamming into the hay and rolling for a moment to come out with his feet under him.

He found himself surrounded by men retreating back to the keep, and he pushed them on shouting "Retreat! Get inside the keep!"

With that he turned, pulling out his longword, which he had taken from Karhold's armory, hacking at a wight that was coming after them after being kicked off the parapet. There were only a few of them in the courtyard just yet, but they were pursuing the retreating defenders quickly.

Theon exchanged sword blows with two of them, before hacking the leg out from under one of them, and stabbing the other with his dark, which he had replaced much like his longsword here in Karhold. He took that one's eyes out, letting it flail around before retreating quickly from the other one, which was still trying to scrabble after him despite not having a leg anymore.

Reaching down he grabbed up his bow where he had dropped it, racing on. Theon was one of the last defenders to retreat into the keep, yet when he turned at the gate, he stared in astonishment, only then realizing that Torrhen and more than two dozen others hadn't retreated from the outer wall at all and were now cut off on the gatehouse's roof.

Torrhen shouted down at Theon. "Close the door Greyjoy!"

"Come on Torrhen, jump for it!" Theon shouted back, all their differences forgotten, as he pointed at a haystack near the gatehouse. "Hack your way through dammit!"

Torrhen shook his head, turning about and firing at a wight who was trying to un-limber a longbow on the wall to shoot at the defenders on the keep's roof. "We'll hold here." He said sounding almost calm even though he was shouting to be heard at all. "Tie up as many of them to attack us here at the gatehouse as we can. Go Theon, go!"

Even as he spoke two men facing the outer wall poured boiling pitch over the side. It had taken hours to come to a boil, and even then it was more lukewarm than anything thanks to the cold of the night. As soon as the pitch was out of the cauldron another man threw down a burning cob of wood, killing possibly a hundred wights gathered around the gate and destroying their battering ram.

"Go Theon!" Torrhen shouted, another arrow on his bowstring.

Seeing over a dozen wights making their way towards the keep's gate, Theon growled angrily, but ducked inside nodding at the men all around him, all of whom were looking at him with expressions that mixed grief and shame with grim determination. "Close it."

They complied and Theon raced away through the keep while the men of House Karstark continued to fall back through the keep, racing out the back of it towards the waiting boat in groups. The ice on the river was getting thicker, mostly centered around the dock and the ship, showing a fell intelligence was driving the cold in its work on the water.

Theon however didn't care for that at the moment. Stopping only briefly inside the keep to restock his quiver with fire arrows, Theon raced on, exiting out onto the roof and moving to the center of the portion of the wall facing Karhold's outer gate. Breathing in deeply, he set a brazier directly next to him, then thrust his entire quiver into it, the fire arrows sticking up out of the coal of the brazier.

For anyone else the fire of the brazier would've set the shaft of those arrows on fire before they could be used, but not Theon. He was too fast, grasping and firing them in one smooth motion, one arrow every half a second.

Even as his arms began to feel heavy, he kept on firing until all of the fire arrows near him were expended leaving over three dozen dead wights on the wall around the gatehouse. He moved onto the next brazier, commandeering the fire arrows from the archer stationed there and did the same, only turning his eyes upwards as he heard a roar.

The undead dragon was back, attacking the keep itself now, coming so close as to almost however over the roof, it's head rearing back in preparation to use its breath attack . Theon coolly drew back on the bowstring, letting fly at the thing's head, knowing the dragon had at last come too close. This time instead of impacting scale and bouncing off, Theon's arrow found the undead dragon's eye. "Die, you fucking monstrosity!"

"GRAHHA!" It roared, bellowing fury and letting loose with a torrent of ice from maw trying to slay its attacker, but Theon ducked aside, rolling on the stone of the rooftop. The dragon glared angrily at him, but more fire arrows from all around began to strike it on the wings. With another bellowing roar it took off, flying higher into the air away from its attackers.

"The sun of Winter!" The men around Theon all shouted aloud jubilantly, but Theon ignored them, moving back to his place on the wall, grabbing up more fire arrows from several dead archers. At the same time, the special arrows of the wights began to fall amongst his fellow defenders.

A shout from below in the keep reached Theon and his fellows then. "They've got something hammering at the gate, and the last of the defenders and servants are aboard, come down! The barge master says we have to go!"

With teeth grit in grief and rage impotent rage the last men of Karhold began to fall back, with Theon the last of them to duck down into the keep. One last arrow left on his bow, slamming into what he hoped was a white walker, a figure in odd black armor whose gender was indeterminate.

It was trying to loosen arrow at the top of the keep from the outer wall, which was now almost entirely under the control of the attackers. It let out a keening wail, falling back and smacking at its chest. But it was otherwise undamaged as it rose, its eyes glinting evilly in the dark and fiery smoke of the battlefield.

Theon however had already raced down into the keep, joining the throng of defenders as they moved through the key towards the waiting boat on the docks.

Theon was one of the last men aboard, and he turned watching the castle as the boat pushed away from the dock and out into the river, the sails catching the wind quickly and the man on the barge's sides punting it through the still slowly freezing water. He kept on staring, watching as the dragon came back, slamming down onto the top of the gatehouse, which was still holding out. He kept on watching as it lunged forward with its gaping maws towards Torrhen who turned roaring something lost on the wind and distance as he charged to his death.

Karhold had fallen.

OOOOOOO

At around the same time that Karhold fell, Last Hearth too felt the brunt of a White Walker assault rather than the small undead attacks that had attacked the few remaining holdfasts north and east of it. By this point all of those smallfolk had retreated or died, giving the defenders of the castle around 2000 more hands and mouths, bringing the total of the household up to almost 5000, which was near the totality that they would have been able to produce in times of war.

Of course more than half of those numbers weren't truly trained armsmen, but thrusting a pike down against climbing White Walkers wasn't exactly training intensive. And many of the smallfolk had training in archery.

The Last Hearth was built in large plain dusted here and there with large boulders, with very few trees anywhere nearby. Certainly not enough cover to allow an army to sneak up on it. This allowed Ser Willowtree and Hother Umber to stare out at the army of wights marching towards them from the west. Here and there at the back of the horde were beings that could only be the White Walkers: taller than most men, and obviously not human their movements faster and smoother than the wights around them over the snow.

Willowtree pointed that out, watching as they moved further back through the horde which continued to advance towards the Last Hearth. "Do you think those are the White Walkers themselves?"

"Could be." Said Hother, his ancient eyes narrowed thoughtfully before he looked up to one of the archers nearby. The two of them were standing on top of the gatehouse, which was the tallest tower set into the outer wall of the castle. "Do you think they're within bow shot?"

"Probably not my Lord." Said the archer regretfully, putting an arrow tipped with a dragonglass arrowhead to one side. Those were precious since they barely had 50 of them all told. They had enough daggers to give every fourth man one of them, but the arrowheads had not withstood the test of time as well as the larger daggers. They would only be used against the White Walkers themselves rather than their wights.

Instead he pulled out an arrow, of which they had several thousands. House Umber's fletchers had been making these ever since the first report from the Lord's counsel had reached them, and they had more fire arrows then they did regular ones at this point.

"Damn."

"I wish you would tell me what that little surprise in your moat is my Lord." said Ser Willowtree looking at the older man with one eyebrow raised. "You seem awfully happy about it. Does it have anything to do with the giant piles of coal that are everywhere in the courtyard? Or with the small catapult?"

"Feh, about time ya put it together." said Hother, grinning through his beard at the younger man. "Me house has got the most coal quarries in the North, I figured we should put some of it to good use." It hadn't actually been Hother's idea, but he had certainly run with it when it had been suggested.

Hother hoped that the White Walkers, or at least their wights, would not realize the danger represented by the moat at all. TO help that it was currently covered by wooden slats all around it. With the snow having covered the slats since then, the trap looked as normal as any other bit of ground out there. For now anyway.

The wight army came on, and at the back of that army were several fantastical beasts. Snow tigers , aurochs, and other, strange looking undead beasts. But none of them mattered really, not in this kind of battle. If we tried to face them in the open those beasts could well have spelled our doom no matter how well we're armed, but as it is they won't be worth anything unless they can break our walls somehow. Ser Willowtree thought.

A few moments later the invading army finally reached the outskirts of arrow range. Several hundred normal arrowheads flew out, impacting the frontline here and there and causing absolutely nothing.

Those men came on, even with arrowheads sticking out of shoulders necks, or even heads. Although every wight wielded some kind of weapon, not a one of them seems to bother with a shield or even armor unless they had been killed in it which was a good thing as far as the defenders were concerned. Ser Willowtree nodded grimly, exchanged a glance with Hother, and turned shouting orders. "Switch to fire arrows!" That call passed on all along the parapet, and moments later hundreds of fire arrows were in the air streaking towards the oncoming horde.

Despite the snow that had just begun to fall, those fire arrows struck and began to cause casualties among the undead who screamed as they were lit on fire, losing whatever power was in them continued to drive their bodies forward. As others had noted since this war began, the wight's bodies were even more flammable than normal corpses, which allowed the fires started by those arrows to spread quickly among their ranks, at least for a few moments.

In response the wight's own archers began to fire, but the parapet of the wall protected most of those on it, and the tower's arrow slits and tops were untouched by this attack, too small a target or too high up for that first volley to reach. They'd have to get much closer and fire at a much higher angle to have any appreciable impact on the defenders.

Ser Willowtree frowned however, staring as the undead spread out, not only attacking from two directions now but encompassing the entire area around the Last Hearth. "The fires won't spread from one to another any longer." he said, watching as more fire arrows streaked out, impacting the front of the horde killing hundreds of them, but not slowing the horde down overmuch.

"Don't worry, we've still got some surprises."

"Yes?" Said Ser Willowtree frowning thoughtfully as he stared over the horde and the smoke from the several hundred small fires out there now. The sun was still high in the sky, but snow was falling, making visibility somewhat difficult. "The question is, do they?"

The attack continued for several hours, well into the night, the battlefield lit by the now thousands of fires set in the bodies of the wights. Ser Willowtree had taken a break as had Hother, but now both of them were back on the wall staring out from the gatehouse again into the gloom of night. "The fires are killing my night vision." Ser Willowtree said worriedly. "We can't tell what anything about what's going on out there."

"If I gotta choose 'tween keeping those fire arrows goin', or seeing what's out there, I'll take the fire arrows." Hother replied tartly.

Moments later the first of the wights reached the foot of the outer wall. There they began to climb up, having a surprisingly easy time of it for now. Here and there defenders poured down boiling water, but it didn't do anything to the wights, they simply climbed through it, ignoring the damage it did to their skin. Pitch would obviously be more effective, but there was very little of that in the North save in the towns and in White Harbor. Last Hearth had enough pitch to fill three cauldrons, but only enough to fill one was being used right now. That had been stationed over the gate, where it could do the most good.

Soon the first of the wights climbing the walls came within range of the pikes held in the armsmen's hands. Thrusting down at them, the sharp steel heads severed limbs, cut heads in half and sent more than a hundred wights falling back to the ground. But most of those wights got up and tried to climb back up the wall, their success only hindered by the limbs they had lost.

So the battle went for a while, before a battering ram was brought forward through the undead army. Once it was in position, it began to work on the outer gate.

"Wait for it," said Ser Willowtree, laying his back against the outer parapet. He waited until he had the timing of the battering ram down, then nodded over at two men stationed by a boiling cauldron. "Now."

They tipped the cauldron over the side of the parapet and the pitch poured out and down impacting the battering ram and many of the wights around it. This slowed them down but otherwise didn't bother them. However when a burning torch was thrown down upon the pitch, the entire battering ram went up in flames quickly, along with hundreds of wights all around it.

"GAAAAYAAHHHHHH!" Their screams rose into a crescendo, actually causing the wights around them still pushing for toward the wall to pause for a moment. But then they came on even faster.

While Willowtree was dealing with that, Hother was surveying the rest of the battle. The wights' ability to climb the lower portion of the wall was not surprising, but their progress on the upper portion was, considering they all carried weapons, and didn't seem to have any concept of being able to sheathe them, those that could be anyway, as they climbed. So they're much stronger than normal men. Not good, but not a problem either.

He walked along the parapet and through several towers, surveying the entire battle before coming back to the gatehouse which was not under attack any more. The defeat of the battering ram had stymied that section of the assault entirely, and since it was still burning none of the wights were willing to get close to it.

From there he looked at the walls directly on either side of the gate, scratching at his beard resulting in tiny wight flakes spreading in the air around him for a moment as he watched the number of wights on the wall. Then he nodded. "Light them up."

The reason the wights had so much success climbing the lower portion of the wall was because there was a series of ropes there tied in a crisscross pattern. But it wasn't just a rope, no this rope had been soaked mere hours ago in cooking oil. Being dead the wights had no sense of touch and couldn't tell that the ropes were wet, but they were. And even as cold out as t was, cooking oil was still flammable.

After all, Hother thought, why use a cauldron of cooking oil once, when you can soak countless lengths of rope in it then use the rope like this? Wish I thought of it myself, but can't argue with the deviousness of it.

He had wanted to bring as many of the wights onto the wall as possible before lighting it up, and had done so now. Here and there several of the pikemen were trying hard to keep the wights from climbing over the parapet. There wasn't any break-ins just yet, but it was close, so it was the perfect time to set off the trap.

From every tower men moved out along the parapet, setting several trailing ropes alight where they hung over the parapet. The fire spread down their length to the rest of the ropes quickly.

And just as Hother hoped, setting alight nearly every wight climbing the wall. The wights were too concerned about climbing up to notice the fire until they were burning, losing hundreds, possibly thousands of men in those first few moments.

"GARAAAYAAHHHHHH!" A wail of pain went up from thousands of throats, dwarfing the cry caused by the battering ram's destruction as the wights went up like dry kindling where they clung to the walls. Around the Last Hearth the horde actually fell back, retreating from the wall as the rope and their fellows burned.

The White Walkers at the back of the horde stared then as one moved in quickly, the smiles they had worn since the battle began now in abeyance. When they reached bow range they halted, pulling back on their bows and letting loose. With the battle not going their way, the White Walkers wanted to if not turn the tide at least cost the defenders more than they had so far.

Their fire was far more accurate than the wights. Whereas the wights had to fire hundreds of arrows to hit one defender thanks to the castle's defenses, the wights each fired once, and each arrow found it's mark. They were no stronger than normal men, but they were hellishly accurate.

Forty-two men died from this assault within an eye-blink, while Hother ducked behind the gatehouse's doorway for a moment watching the White Walker's arrows strike home. Those arrows seems to ignore light armor somehow, penetrating chain mail like it wasn't even there. Though it was turned aside by plate, Hother noted as two arrows struck a man in the chest, one of the archers from House Stark. But if a man was struck by those arrows wherever it hit, they fell spasming to the parapet.

He also noted that regular arrows didn't penetrate the White Walker's own armor. Whatever it was it turned arrows aside. Shaking his head, he bellowed, "Switch to black arrows!"

The archers who had proven themselves the best shots in the castle that were stationed along this portion of the wall quickly grabbed arrows with dragonglass arrowheads. They looked at one another taking glances over the parapet before ducking away, while more men around them died under the White Walker's deadly assault. The most senior of them held up a hand. "On the count of three, one, two, three!"

At that command all of them stood up, aiming at the White Walkers. Two of them died from the White Walkers' arrows, but then their own fusillade went out.

The White Walkers didn't care, calmly reloading their bows not realizing these arrows were slightly different than most. The dragonglass arrowheads slammed into them, punching straight through their strange black armor here and there, killing some of them instantly. Those were the lucky ones.

"IESSSHHHAAAA!" The others who had been shot with Dragonglass screamed, like someone was trying to rend their souls, spasming on the ground as the dragonglass, the embodiment of the fire of the earth, went to work on them like one of their own shots did on a human.

The surviving White Walkers, about ten all told retreated quickly. Then by some unseen command the wights did as well falling back from the Last Hearth, it's lower walls still on fire.

Seeing this, Ser Willowtree nodded grimly then bellowed "See to the dead!"At that command man began to move along the wall, grimly going about the business of stabbing every dead man through the heart with a dragonglass dagger. They hoped that this would stop their bodies from rising, and it seemed to work.

As the sun began to go down the White Walkers and their army did not seem in any great rush to rejoin the first day of the siege of the Last Hearth ended. It would start up again soon enough. But unlike Karhold, the Last Hearth would not face the dragons or the White Walker's fell magic right off the bat. It would hold, for now.

OOOOOOO

Ghost and Nymeria moved through the night like twin shadows, with a wolf pack numbering more than forty beasts around them. Normal packs were only about six to fifteen wolves at a time. But thanks to the direwolves force of personality, and of course their sheer size and presence they had brought together five different packs into one massive one for the task their companions had demanded of them.

They had been following the mercenary army for over a week now, attacking outriders whenever they could, howling the night away always from the front and west. The army had slowed badly because of this. Any horse that escaped the Army's camp was immediately set upon, and the wolves had eaten well practically every day, building up fat for the coming winter.

Now however, the bridge was in sight. The army would reach it within a few hours, and Ghost and Nymeria both knew that their smaller cousin's parts in this battle were over with. With growls and nips, they drove the Wolf packs away slightly, letting them break up now. Moments later the two of them moved northwards, while Nymeria took the lead, sniffing the wind eagerly as she caught the scent of her bonded.

OOOOOOO

With the direwolves and the wolves harrying his army, Oberyn's progress was slowed tremendously, even more then Jon had anticipated. Worse for him, Lady Taena had underestimated how the smallfolk viewed his army thanks to its previous actions. They snuck out of their hideaways at times, staying well clear of the wolves but also attacking the outriders of the Army whenever they could. Worse, they had stripped their lands bare of anything that Oberyn could use to feed his force.

Of course the mercenaries hunted and killed hundreds of them, and Oberyn ordered reprisals against any nearby, killing hundreds more. Oberyn had even ordered the camp followers they collected executed, passing them off as locals and making a point of doing it where any watchers could see.

Yet while that helped their supply situations slightly it that didn't deter the smallfolk, they were convinced the Seven was on their side. Discontent was rife in his army now, facing a real supply issue and the losses of their horses. Therefore when Oberyn finally saw the bridge ahead of him he sighed aloud in relief. "Finally."

"So we'll finally be rid of those wolves you think?" Said a young voice behind him and Oberyn turned in the saddle to stare at 'Darkstar' Gerold Dayne.

He had acquitted himself well these past few days leading several punitive expeditions and had actually slain some of the wolves that plagued the army's steps. Those wolves bothered Oberyn, quite a lot frankly, more than they did his men because it was so out of the ordinary for wolves to act in such a manner. And there was only ever one House associated with wolves.

But surely a Stark force can't be anywhere near here, can it? But if there is then… no, no this is probably some kind of Seven-based 'miracle' the beasts of the forest rising to protect the faithful. Too small and too weak a 'miracle' to save the lands from our torches though.

"I suppose, at least it can be hoped." Oberyn replied aloud. "Nonetheless, take some of your men and watch our back trail, I want to be on the lookout for them until we're all across the bridge."

Darkstar nodded, turning his horse, one of a bare fifty remaining with the army, around and heading back towards the end of the column, while Oberyn scanned the column for Obara. He spotted her after a moment, coming towards him, flicking her whip out at one or two of the mercenaries who must've made a comment toward her. She looked wan and worried, which was the norm for her these days. She had not taken to live with the army well, and with each passing day there seemed to be distance growing between them.

She nodded a greeting at him, then looked behind the army as a howl was heard in the distance. "It's unnatural!" She spat, not for the first time. "Those wolves, they can't be real wolves, they must be demons wearing wolf skins!"

"We'll be leaving them behind soon enough Obara." Oberyn shrugged. "That's all we can do at this point, our attempt to hunt them down failed miserably nearly every time! You'd think that a human was leading them for how intelligent they were about it."

"That makes my idea even more likely doesn't it?" Obara spat tartly. Oberyn merely nodded and the two rode on.

A moment later the two of them were on the bridge. The bridge was a large affair made of stone. It arced over the river high enough to allow for river traffic to pass beneath it on either side of a single large massive stone column set into the center of its expanse.

Obara and his daughter rested their legs for a moment, leaning against their horses while watching as the army marched past them over the bridge in the normal desultory march of mercenary groups everywhere, before turning to look at the river. Suddenly someone behind them shouted. "There's a barge coming up the river!"

The two of them turned to stare at what was indeed a large barge coming up towards the bridge. While that might have seemed innocent to most of the mercenaries, it didn't seem so to Oberyn, or to the mercenary commanders. He glanced around him, and shouted "Archers! Archers to the riverbank!"

Seeing his daughter's questioning look Oberyn rolled his eyes. "Daughter, the news of our army's advance no doubt spread ahead of us. I refuse to believe that just because we skirted around House Merryweather's land that the river traffic of the Mander would assume we wouldn't be coming back. Remember, paranoia is a necessity for those of us in the business."

Obara scowled for some reason, moving away to her horse leaving Oberyn to look after her quizzically, wondering why she had reacted like that.

At his order, several hundred horse archers who had been dismounted thanks to that those damnable wolves took up position all over the bridge and began to fire at the oncoming barge. The barge stopped, and from where he was Oberyn could see the crew running about while they began to let the rivers flow would take them back down river.

While that was going on other portions of the army continued to move over the bridge, but then a shout from the front ranks went up as well as screams. One of the mercenary leaders came back at a trot, pointing over his shoulder. "Dere's some kindaditch in de way down the road, its curved, and it's also blockin' de way either side 'long the riverbank."

Could Lord Caron have gotten down here ahead of us? No not possible, even if he could he wouldn't be smart enough to try and ambush like this. He is a knight of the Reach, they're all about honor and the charge."Did you see any banners?"

"I didn't spot none, but there coulda been some hiding in the woods."

More cries rang out as arrows from that area began to fly, and Oberyn grit his teeth. "Form the men up and push them out of the way, I have a bad feeling about this." Above them it began to rain again, and Oberyn shook his head. "Oh, of course, doesn't that just make everything that much better!"

Oberyn's army began to shudder like a living thing, portions of it moving forward, while other portions moved to the side to allow the better armored troops of mercenaries from the Company of the Cat to move forward. While that was going on Oberyn spotted his daughter grabbing up a bow and moving to join the archers. "Keep the Dornish portion of the army back for now." He whispered in her ear. "Let them do the dying."

His daughter frowned but nodded, setting aside her bow to join Oberyn in gathering up the Dornish troops and keeping them on the bridge for now. Since most of them were archers currently shooting at the barge heading down river that made sense to their fellows, so none of the mercenaries noticed what was going on.

Suddenly another cry went up from the side of the bridge facing upriver, causing Oberyn to turn. Another barge was coming down river, and he quickly turned to look at the first. The other barge had stayed at long range of other bows, but now arrows were flying from it out into his army. This wasn't aimed fire, just simply hails of arrows, but they didn't have to be given how bunched up his army was on the bridge and on the Mander's western bank.

"Get some fire arrows!" Oberyn shouted at the top of his lungs. "Get some fire arrows on those barges!"

But his cries went unheeded for a few moments, while the archers of his army died under that hail of fire from their opponents. Horse archers might be able to fire faster, but their smaller bows didn't have the range of their opponents, and those barges were just a little bit out of most of his men's range forcing what few archers there were among the mercenaries to take up the slack, and they simply couldn't.

Oberyn growled, kneading his horse forward pushing through the throng of confused and now worried mercenaries, only of whom were still trying to charge forward towards the barricades, while others were now looking over the shoulder worriedly as arrows continued to fall among them. His army was too large for their losses to matter just yet, but it was the sudden turnaround, the fact that they were being attacked like this after so long without facing any real opponent in the open which was making these mercenaries nervous, on top of the morale problems the wolves and the supply situation had caused.

I have to get control of this battle he thought, staring hard at the ditches which were stymieing his forward march. The ditch was about four feet by four feet, with the bottom lined with ditches, with the opposite side featuring a small lip to it two feet or so tall

"Get in among them! Get in among them cut those stakes, first rank cuts the stakes, second-rank armed with polearms pushes forward!" He shouted aloud, and finally the mercenaries around him began to respond like the experienced warriors they were. "Get in among them, they can't have the numbers to face us!"

With that their courage was restored. With the Company of the Cat leading the way, most of the army on the western bank charged forward into the ditch with a roar.

OOOOOOO

Jon stood with two men of House Stark that Ranma had sent with him, both experienced men of the pike Regiment who Ranma hoped Jon would be able to use to train another regiment from the Reach at some point. They had been experienced armsmen before that, and Jon was happy to have them.

"You know the score men!" He said. "Hold the line and weather that first charge!" He said aloud in a calm tone looking to both sides along the half-circle. In front of them the mercenaries finally found their spines again, and began to push forward. Behind him the few archers that Jon had retained with his men fired, aiming for those men among the mercenaries who had horses assuming those were the commanders.

There was a mighty roar, no real single warcry, just a screaming animalistic bellow from the mercenaries as they charged forward. "One warcry lads!" Jon shouted, leaping up onto the small lip of the ditch holding his short swords in the air, trusting to his lizard-lion armor to turn any arrows. "Tell them who we are!"

"Honor above all! Westeros for the King and Queen!" was the cry that greeted him.

Then there is no more time for words. The mercenaries slammed into the ditches, hacking and slashing and dying on the stakes inside of them, while men armed with spears of similar flimsy construction stabbed down into the ditch killing dozens of the attackers. But those first few thousand did their job, cutting and hacking at the stakes, pushing aside a few spears here and there and allowing their fellows to charge up the slope of the ditch into the face of the defenders.

Jon howled "Winter Is Coming!" and brought his twin swords around, one sword blocking a sword thrust from another man, as his other blade found a mercenary's throat opening it up with a quick economical slash across the barred jugular before he turned, dueling with four men at once and sending three of them back into the ditch with fatal wounds in as many seconds before the fourth fell to a sword thrust by one of his men. "Hold! Hold them! Just until the other jaw of this trap closes!"

OOOOOOO

With the arrow assault from the two barges slashing into their ranks from the Mander, all of the mercenaries were eager to get to grips with the opponent they could reach with their own weapons. But there wasn't enough room, not between them and the ditch, to bring their greater numbers to bear.

Thousands of them were still on the bridge and on the other side for a time, but those men were dying quickly from the arrow storm. While the front of the mercenary army knew what was going on and could see an enemy to attack those behind them, those stuck on the bridge and on the other side were close to breaking. Oberyn's decision to keep his Dornishmen slowed this process down, yet it was also costing him his most loyal troops.

From her vantage point downriver Arya looked out from one of the closest farmhouses to the river in whose cellar she had hidden along with Nymeria this morning to avoid Oberyn's scouts. Not that this was difficult given how jittery those patrols had become thanks to Ghost, Nymeria and the surprising resistance from the smallfolk. Because of this, all around the farmstead and in other little hideaways, 600 men of Tully and Piper footmen were waiting within sprinting distance of the bridge and the battle happening there.

Behind her Nymeria lay with Ghost, panting happily at being back with her bonded after nearly a week apart. Ser Piper waited nearby, with Edric flexing and un-flexing his hand nervously on his sword hilt.

Arya and Ser Piper exchanged a glance, and the older man, nominally in charge of this portion of the ambush, frowned for just a moment surveying the battle. Then he nodded sharply, looking over to his signalman, who turned quickly, waving a bright red pennant out of the farmhouse's doorway.

A moment later his men charged out as silently as possible from their hiding places, joining up on the run into a single force. They were noticed of course, but not before Edric, Arya and the two direwolves were nearly upon them.

"Winter is coming!" Arya snarled, Fang slashing out and catching a man in the back before she wolf-rushed another, bowling him to the floor while Edric killed two more with quick, economical thrusts of his sword. But it was Ghost and Nymeria who did the most damage. The entire rear of the Dornish army pulled back, falling over themselves to get away from the direwolves. Most of the few remaining horses screamed and bolted at their approach, mentally tortured for over a week by the constant howling and attacks far beyond what their riders could control.

The four of them held the eastern side of the bridge alone for a few moments, then the men of Tully and Piper were there, cutting down the men who had fled to either side of their approach before they could encircle the foursome. With the eastern bank now devoid of enemies, Ser Piper and his men formed a shield wall to defend the eastern side of the bridge. "The Rivers, the Rivers for the true King and Queen!"

OOOOOOO

Darkstar scowled, staring through the rain and the tumult of battle at the colors this new force was wearing. He wasn't very well educated on the noble Houses of the rest of Westeros, but he certainly recognized the youngish boy wearing House Dayne colors following the direwolves around. He smiled evilly, then looked around at the rest of the battle, a sight which caused his smile to slip off his face.

Arrows were still falling from the barges on either side of the river in a seemingly inexhaustible hail. Darkstar wondered how they could keep up that rate of fire. It wasn't aimed fire of course, but that didn't matter, especially since there were so few archers on the Dornish side left. The barges had moved in, allowing the bows to have even more killing power when they struck.

And the casualties they were causing among the mercenaries were horrific. Most mercenaries didn't have much in the way of armor. Chain mail, or leather Jerkins were the norm, with the exception being the larger Company of the Cat, where several hundred had plate and the very few remaining lancers from Dorne. Most of those were on the front line now, trying to hack their way over the ditches and out of this trap.

A direwolf howled, and Darkstar grimaced, rising up in the saddle as his horse tied to bolt, pulling furiously on the reins trying to get control. An arrow whizzed out of the rain, impacting his horse's neck, and Darkstar scowled angrily throwing himself clear as it collapsed to one side. Rolling along the cobblestones of the bridge he came to a stop, pulling out his sword and holding it high. "Rally to me! Rally to me, Stranger curse your hides!"

Several moments later he had a force of around fifty of his own House around him, and he pointed at one edge of the shield wall that had taken possession on the eastern edge of the bridge. "This battle is lost. Let Oberyn and the mercenaries die, we need to get out of here. Push the mercenaries forward in that direction, break their line and then we'll push on and out of this trap."

Darkstar wasn't the only commander with a thought of getting away now rather than fighting. The mercenaries had not faced a true enemy in this entire campaign really, ambushes and small skirmishes, even a few simple sieges yes, but no threat that could conceivably beat them. They had become complacent, certain of themselves and had of course accumulated a lot of loot that now they were scared to lose.

When this battle had begun the Dornish forces numbered around 8,000. He'd lost a little over 3,000 men since this campaign had begun to disease, festering wounds, and simple death in combat, which was actually the least important of the three before this battle began. He now had a bare handful of cavalry, even fewer archers, and what little courage the mercenaries had was waning quickly, and with it any chance of winning this fight.

Oberyn knew it, and as Darkstar and other commanders tried to break out back over the bridge, Oberyn rallied several hundred men near the center of the ditch's half-circle. Jon's twin swords were a visible blur there splattering blood and viscera everywhere, the rain doing no job whatsoever in cleaning them between strikes.

"Kill him," Oberyn said pointing his spearhead at Jon. "Kill him, and this army will break! He's the leader of this force, I don't know why a Stark-led force is here at all, but that is Jon Stark! Kill him, and we can turn this all around, roll up the ditches sides, then move out of range of the barges!"

The men all around him nodded grimly, and they waded through the rest of the army charging forward. Several of them died from the arrow storm continuing behind them, and more died as they slammed into the ditch, joining their fellows there. Still others got bogged down there, hacking and cutting at the spears being thrust down into the ditch at them, or racing up its side to engage the defenders elsewhere.

But twenty-four of them stayed on target, attacking the portion of the ditch right in front of Jon. The Stark men to either side of Jon did their best, engaging three men each, falling back reluctantly. But this opened a hole, one of many that had been opened on the ditches line now.

Beric led a small force forward to assist from the small reserves waiting behind the ditch, but those few man were the last of the reserves. Jon had underestimated the numbers in Oberyn's army, and been forced to push forward his reserves almost the moment Oberyn was able to convince the mercenaries to attack en-masse. The arrow storm was doing its job still, but the line above the ditch was in real danger of being overrun despite the enemy force's morale and lack of organization.

That didn't matter to Jon at the moment. A thrust from one of his blades caught one of his attackers in the shoulder, then Jon pulled back dancing to one side as a broadsword came down on where he had been standing. His blade flicked out, catching that man and across the nose and eyeballs blinding him, causing him to fall back with a scream which ended as a kick from Jon caught him right in the diaphragm rupturing it badly.

Three more men fell before Jon was forced to retreat from a spear thrust towards the head then another one to the side, then the third aiming for a shoulder, each of them faster than the last. But Jon dodged them all, before thrusting his swords up to form an X, with both of his blade, catching the spear right behind the head as it made to come down on his head in a slash. With a heave Jon forced the spear to one side, lunging forward with his blades outstretched.

While the man next to him died to one of Jon's blades, Oberyn deftly dodged to one side, then spun his spear, smacking a kick aside with the butt of his spear as he nodded almost cordially towards Jon Stark, a small yet vicious grin on his face and battle light in his eyes. "So what brings the bastard of Winterfell down into the Reach? I'd think you'd be with your brother facing Stannis somewhere."

"My brother doesn't need me around to carve Stannis into giblets." Jon replied, bringing up one bloody sword in a sardonic salute before flicking the blood off his blade and attacking viciously. "You and your murderous band however have to be stopped!"

Oberyn scoffed, thrusting forward as quickly as he could move his spear forcing Jon to keep his distance, then was forced to dodge backwards as Jon redirected one of his spear thrusts before closing quickly. Using the spear now as a quarterstaff Oberyn blocked several sword thrusts, but one got through on his shoulder, not deeply but opening up his shoulder slightly.

In reply the spear butt slammed into Jon's side, but not with enough force to matter. Instead Jon lifted his thigh up into the butt of the spear as it was pulled back, forcing Oberyn to move with the spear, twirling around quickly and bringing it up to block another sword swipe, only to see Jon's blade hack through the spear halfway down the shaft.

Undeterred Oberyn brought the butt of the spear around, trying to slam it into the side of Jon's head but he ducked. This allowed Oberyn to catch him in the face with a knee, or so he hoped. Instead Jon threw himself to one side dodging that knee.

Then when Oberyn tried to bring the club down again Jon brought one of his swords up and around to slice the half of the spear thrusting towards him in half again, forcing Oberyn to drop the useless chunk of wood left. He backed away hurriedly, falling back down the muddy side of the ditch, grateful for the chance to get away from the deadly young man.

Four other men suddenly charged up over the ditch's lip engaging Jon before he could follow Oberyn. Waiting until the four were engaged with Jon, Oberyn changed his grip on the half of the spear he was still holding, then hurled it forward from a distance of only about five feet straight up at Jon where he fought on the lip of the ditch. "Can't miss!"

Jon saw the flash of the spear through the rain, and dove aside at the last second, accepting a blow from a mace to his shoulder blade that made him grimace in pain to dodge the spear. Even so he thought it was a good exchange, Jon wasn't about to trust any weapon that the man called the Viper wielded.

His sword caught the mace wielder in the thigh, nearly cutting through his leg and dumping him to the muddy, bloody ground. Jon leaped over him, killing two more men before once again engaging Oberyn at the ditch's edge, the Dornish prince now armed with a longsword purloined from a corpse. Around them Beric and his men held on to the edge of the ditch grimly, the battle tittering in the balance while arrows and rain continued to fall.

OOOOOOO

On the bridge, the fighting was equally furious. Gerold 'Darkstar' and a few lieutenants had been able to rally enough of their men to try and push through the shield wall holding the eastern side of the bridge.

Arya ducked her head underneath a blow coming at her from a broadsword, Fang flicking out and taking that man in the side of the knee before coming up in an arc to catch another man's arm, cutting deep into it. Fang caught on the man's bone and when the man pulled back screaming he pulled Arya off balance for just a second.

The man next to him raised his blade to cut down Arya. He died however when Edric took him in the stomach with his own blade while Nymeria took out another man guarding their back. Ghost was elsewhere in the battle, hunting down a few men who had been able to break through the shield wall and run for it.

With the training Jon and his men had given them the men of Piper and Tully knew how to work together, forming smaller groups here and there cutting down a dozen men for every one of their own even now when their shield wall had been broken in places. They were aided in this by the fact that most of them had better armor of them their opponents, they were well rested, and well fed, whereas the mercenary army was neither thanks to the wolves and the smallfolk's attacks.

Even so some of them were breaking through. Arya growled as she ripped Fang out of that man's bones, pointing to one side as a group of 50 of the mercenaries hacked their way through ten men from House Piper before they began to turn north, trying to get out of the melee. "That group's going to get away!"

Edric looked up, pulling his own blade out of another enemy who had tried to spear Nymeria from behind after being knocked down by someone else. Staring through the tumult of battle and the rain he frowned. "Those men, I know that House, and that man in the lead! We have to get after him!" Arya nodded, and twenty other men turned with them, racing to engage the fleeing force.

However Darkstar had noticed Edric as well, and he grinned evilly falling back through his men pointing them in that direction. "Those two youngsters are coming after us with that damn demonic wolf!" He shouted. "Those of you with spears concentrate on that direwolf, the rest of you cut down those two, and we'll then be able to get away clean!"

Darkstar and his men attacked as a group, pressing forward hard, separating Edric, Arya and Nymeria from their men for a moment, pushing them almost entirely off the edge of the bridge. Several of them with spears tried to keep Nymeria at bay, with very limited success while Darkstar engaged Edric with several other men and the majority of the others tried to pin Arya down.

That was even harder than the battle the spear wielders faced with Nymeria. Arya was a shadow, jumping here there and everywhere using all of the tricks that Ranma had taught her to stay mobile, fang flicking here and there aiming for weak points in their armor when they had any, or simply carving through leather Jerkins with ease.

Darkstar and Edric met, their blades crossed. Darkstar laughed coldly. "So nice to see his cousin! I haven't seen you since you were what, nine?"

"If you're talking about the time you tried to push me off a cliff, I think I was a around ten at the time." Edric replied grimly, battering Gerold's sword aside letting it pass over his head and elbowing the man sharply in the ribs.

Before he could follow up on that blow he had to dodge back from a knife thrust as Darkstar pulled a knife from his belt. The older man rubbed his stomach were his nephew's elbow had landed, wincing even through his plate armor. "You seem to have some bite to you now, heh, let's see if it's enough!"

Edric didn't replied, simply smiling faintly holding his sword in both hands for a moment as he attacked, each blow faster and stronger than the one before it. Not a Wolfsworn by any means, he had still trained with Ranma and the others for several weeks, and Jon and continued his training. He was well beyond what any normal swordsman would've been able to deal with, which surprised Darkstar. Known as one of the better swords in Dorne, he realized quickly that his cousin was faster than he was.

Blocking a slash to his side Darkstar pushed, using his greater strength to bear Edric backwards then lashing out with a kick which caught Edric in the thigh. Collapsing to one side Edric was still able to bring his blade up in a massive uppercut, blocking Darkstar's sword, smashing it out of his grip.

Rolling in the mud and bloody ground at the edge of the stone bridge Edric tried to regain his footing, but Darkstar slammed into him, pushing him down with one hand on his head and pulling back his knife for a thrust down into his cousin's vitals. "I will have Dawn cousin! If I have to kill you and everyone in your family to get it!"

Edric grabbed his downward thrusting arm right behind the hand, holding it with both of his own, pushing Darkstar back slightly until the older man was forced to bring his other hand down as well, pushing his knife down. For a moment that they were locked there, then Edric suddenly wrenched to one side at the same time letting Darkstar thrust his dagger down.

The dagger slammed into the mud were Edric had previously been, and Edric rolled back, trapping one of Darkstar's hand underneath him as his own hand came up slamming into Darkstar's chin with punishing force throwing the other man off him to one side. Grabbing up his own belt knife Edric went after him, smacking Edric's own knife thrust to one side. His other hand came up with a clock of mud, and through it point blank into Darkstar's face. Darkstar gasped, reaching up with one hand to clear his eyes from mud while waving his knife in front of them.

Edric lashed out with a kick, knocking the knife out of Gerold's hand flipping his own dagger up so he was now holding the blade by the edge and bringing in around. It crashed into his cousin's temple, knocking him sideways but it didn't knock him out. He still tried to woozily get to his feet, snarling angrily. "Can't finish it cousin?"

"I'm not a kinslayer." Edric said backing away.

Darkstar was about to laugh when a sword caught him right in the back of his neck, severing his spine and pushing through to come out of his jugular in a bloody display. "But you're no kin of mine." Said a female voice from behind him, her words almost the snarl of an animal. "So I don't have a problem with ending this."

Edric smiled faintly, wincing at his wounds as he stared at the body of his childhood tormentor, reaching down to grab up his sword and smiling at Arya taking his place next to her as they moved back towards the bridge and the main battle. "What was that about?" Arya asked.

"I'll explain later, it has quite a bit to do with your own family's history, and a Kingsguard, one of the truest knights to ever live. He was called the Sword of Morning…"

OOOOOOO

Oberyn could now feel that the battle was lost. No cohesion remained among the mercenaries, no will to fight, and from where he was standing he could see most of his own Dornishmen were down dead or unconscious. Without the ability to use maneuverability, his horse archers were overmatched by the range of the longbows, and had been wiped out to a man, and all the other Dornish troops were gone as well. Even his daughter was nowhere in sight, a face that drove a blade of pure ice into his gut. He vaguely hoped she at least would live out the day somehow.

Oberyn knew he wouldn't, he a realist and knew he was overmatched here. Jon had sliced through every man that Oberyn tried to put between them. Now, as the mercenaries tried to retreat away from the ditches Jon and his men were pressing forward, pushing the mercenaries back against the river's edge. They lost dozen of men in the ditches themselves, but the mercenaries didn't have enough cohesion left to hold it against them.

Suddenly Jon was in front of him again, his brown eyes stormy as his blade hacked forward. Oberyn's sword came up, blocking one sword blade and trying to hook both of Jon's shorter swords on his own pushing him back. Jon let him do so, letting one blade fall to the side for a moment, before ducking slightly to one side, allowing Oberyn's next thrust to continue past him.

There was a sharp stabbing pain in Oberyn's chest, and he looked down to find Jon's short sword embedded in his stomach. He looked at Jon, hacking up blood as he smiled grimly. He was going to say something, something about his family avenging him, but Jon's other blade came around, cutting his head off his shoulders in a welter of gore before he could get the words out.

Jon stood down at Oberyn Martell's body, shaking his head. Then he had to bring his swords up again as some men charged at him, banishing his thoughts of what-ifs and wishful thinking to the back of his brain once more.

It took a few more hours to finally wipe out the mercenaries but in the end it was more simple butchery than a battle. No quarter was asked, and even those who mercenaries had tried to surrender were butchered where they stood. An army of a little over 8000 slaughtered by a force barely over half their own size.

At the end of the day, Jon had lost around 900 men, with a further 320 injured ranging from small wounds to crippling injuries. House Piper had taken the brunt of those losses, contributing most of the men on the other side of the bridge, but in doing so they had won back the honor they had lost facing the Westerlands army and in their Lord's decision to remain neutral afterward.

Leaving behind 200 men to go through the battlefield, executing what mercenaries still lived and reclaiming the treasures that they had taken throughout their campaign Jon moved the rest of his force back upriver several leagues before letting them rest for a day. While Beric, Edric and Arya saw to the organization of the camp, Jon retired for the evening to write out a message to be taken over to Longtable and sent to Highgarden from there. The first part of the Reach campaign was over, now Jon needed to look toward the next stage.

OOOOOOO

Petyr smiled thinly his eyes lighting up with joy as he saw the small party moving through the woods along the Green Fork. They were taking their time, and the guards he saw were certainly on watch, but there are ways and ways, and Petyr was an old hand at sneaking around even in the Woodlands.

He looked around shuddering slightly. But this is the last Stranger-damned night I spend in the woods! I can't shake the feeling that someone is following us! That feeling had been at the back of his mind at first, growing stronger over time. Nothing, not taking to the Blue Fork, or staying in Fairmarket seemed to shake it for long.

It's just a feeling he thought for the thousandth time. There's really nothing out there. You've spent so long playing at the great game, you're too used to people watching you so now you're jumping at shadows! Don't mess this up now! You might not get everything out of this you wanted, but you will get something to enjoy at least.

Petyr continued to watch as the small band moved down the river, though he had to move quickly several times to stay out of sight. The Northern man with the spear seemed to have a knack for moving through the woods, and had nearly spied Petyr several times. Eventually Petyr decided to give it up for the day, and slowly retreated through the woods.

He returned to their camp in a small hidden alcove at the base of a giant tree. The tree had fallen to one side its roots coming out of the ground and create this small, yet it was at the top of a small rise in the ground, which coupled with the number of large roots above them allowed this small nook to remain somewhat dry in the rains which were now constantly drenching the Riverlands. Once inside, he nodded at his men grimly. "It's her, we'll strike tonight."

The man all nodded, shifting nervously. The band never spoke of it, but they were all competent burglars, sneak thieves, and other things. All of them had learned over the years to feel when they were being stalked. And they were getting that feeling now, had been for weeks.

"Let's just do this and get it over with." Osney growled, causing his brothers to nod in agreement. "The sooner we're out of the Riverlands the better."

That night Petyr snuck forward with Lothor and Osmund moving as quietly as they could leaving behind the two younger brothers. Once they found the place the northerners had camped for night, Petyr paused scowling angrily as he noticed that one of the guards was the young Northerner, moving around the camp purposefully staring out into the gloom.

Backing away slightly he gestured his two men closer as they moved further back. "We'll not get in there with him on guard like that. One of you skirt around the camp, cause some kind of disturbance north of the camp for him to concentrate on, maybe pull him up out of the camp entirely."

The two men scowled angrily, exchanging glances. They didn't like that idea realizing that such a diversion could well cost them their lives if the northerner caught up with them. News of what the Wolfsworn could do had spread far and wide in the Riverlands, including descriptions of them, and the one with the spear was memorable at least.

Eventually Lothor grunted. "I'll do it. I can swim if need be, and the river's right there." And I also have most of the gold you've paid me these past few weeks on me now if I have to make a break for it.

He moved off through the dark of the wood. An interminable amount of time later there was a faint but slowly growing louder sound to the north of the camp. Eddie frowned, staring in that direction then over at the other guard. He pointed at himself then over towards the noise, and the younger man nodded, moving over to wake another Stark man up to join him on watch while Edd loped off through the woods.

Petyr and Osmund looked at one another, waiting for a few breaths then Petyr nodded and they raced in, moving as silently as they could through the wet and muddy woodland. Aiding this approach both of the guards had turned their attention to the north despite knowing better.

One man died with a gurgle as a dagger went into his unprotected kidney, a hand around his mouth blocking out all sound. The other gasped as a garrote went around his neck pulled taught by Petyr. Several seconds went passed until the man in Stark colors breathed his last, and Petyr gently lowered him to the ground. Petyr nodded grimly, signaling with his hands that Osmund should let out a call if anything happened, before moving forward.

With Osmund standing watch Petyr moved in to the camp, slinking around the two tends that belonged to Sansa's guards, before coming to her own. With a whisper of cloth he moved inside, pulling out a pad of cloth covered in knockout water, a creation of the alchemists that could knock anyone out for ours once the fumes of it were breathed in.

He held it just over Sansa's mouth and nose, taking a moment to look at her shaking his head. She looks so much like dearest Cat, so beautiful. Oh yes, this was an excellent idea. You and I my dear, I will make you so happy and you in turn will make me happy, depend upon it!

With that thought he brought the cloth over her mouth and nose, causing Sansa to wake up with a start. Her hands moved, and suddenly one of them held a small dagger. Luckily Petyr could hold the cloth against her mouth and nose with one hand. Fast as a viper his other hand grabbed her arm, banging it against the ground by her bedroll until she let go of her dagger. A moment later she fell back, unconscious and Petyr breathed a sigh of relief.

That sigh of relief ended abruptly when he heard an owl's hoots. That was the sound of Osmund warning him that the northerner was on his way back. He scowled angrily, grabbing the girl up in his arms and putting her on her his back for a moment before running out of the tent.

Moments later Edd was back, frowning as he moved through the camp for a moment then back out the other side, heading towards where the guards should be. He had snuck up on Lothor, but the man had been trying to get into the river, and he had died in a short, very brief fight without giving anything away. But Edd was suspicious of a single man following them like that, and had hurried back.

Petyr and Osmund had just finished binding Sansa's arms and legs when Edd found the two dead guards. "To arms! To arms!"

Edd raced back from where the two Stark men had been killed, moving through the camp and pushing two men aside as they tried to grab him asking what was going on. He pushed open Sansa's tent flap, staring inside aghast. "Kidnappers!" he shouted, turning away and looking around through the woods. "Someone just kidnapped Sansa, spread out, find me some tracks!"

Ben and the others nodded, Ben's face going pale in fear for Sansa. They all grabbed up cobs of wood from the fire, racing out into the woodlands. Their desperate searches through the wet woodlands didn't find anything for some time. But then one of the crannogmen that had joined them at Crannogtown got lucky and found the print of a boot.

Kneeling over it he pointed away through the woods, where by the torchlight tracks could be seen "They must've heard you coming back here, they bolted off, didn't care enough to hide their tracks, traded stealth for speed."

Before he even finished speaking Edd was off racing through the woods with Ben hard on his heels. Soon however the Wolfsworn left him behind, racing through the woodlands recklessly.

Finding the trail had cost the pursuers time, and Petyr and Osmund had reached their small hideaway before they had. Osney, Osfrey, we've been blown! We must away!"

There was no reply from the little muddy hollow underneath the roots of the tree.

"Osney, Osfrey!" Said Osmund "come on Stranger-damn it, this is no time to fuck about, I don't care if you fools fell asleep, let's go!"

Still no reply. Petyr looked at him and motioned with his head and Osmund moved forward cautiously, sword out. He came backwards quickly shaking his head wildly. "Dead! They're both dead! Looks like some kind of…"

At that point Fenris came out of the woodlands behind him, barring Osmund to earth before he could cry out. His head darted down, ripping the man's throat out with almost negligent ease before the giant direwolf turned, glaring through the night at Petyr who backed away hurriedly. Throwing Sansa down in front of him he pulled out a dagger holding it to her throat. "None of that! You, you beasts are smarter than you're supposed to be, so I know you know I'll kill her if you come at me!"

The jolt of hitting the ground woke Sansa up, and she groaned, shaking her head. "None of that my dear," said a voice that she had heard not heard for months behind her. At the same time Sansa felt a prick against her neck.

"L-Littlefinger?" Sansa gasped, trying to see him, but from her current position she couldn't turn her head around enough to do so.

"I'm delighted you remember me my gorgeous one," he said, kissing her hair behind her head, causing Sansa to shiver in revulsion. "I regret the method of our meeting, but life has not been good to me of late."

"A-and you think this will make it better? You think…" she tried to laugh only to stop as the point of the dagger pressed into her throat more. "You, hehe, you think there is anywhere you can go, anyplace you could hide that my brothers would not find you? You're not that much of a fool!"

"You're naïve my dear, naïve but beautiful, so gorgeous, just like your mother was at your age. Did Cat ever tell you of our years in Riverrun together? We were in love once Cat and I, so much in love. But she had her duty!" He spat the word. "And her father was a fool who did not see my mind and abilities, only the size of the fortune my family could call on. He spurned my suit of her, and Cat was first forced into a betrothal with that lout Bandon, who died like a fool! And then, when I thought the way might be clear for her and I to finally love one another openly, your father accepts the transfer of the betrothal to himself."

"Liar!" Sansa growled. "My mother never loved you! She saw you as a younger brother, and that faded quickly! She came to loathe you…" Sansa stopped speaking as the knife pressed in deeper.

"I know that now, the moment Cat was forced to lay with that wolf of a father of yours, I should have realized she was out of my reach. Yet still I hoped, still I planned! Only for Eddard to survive! For your family to not only survive but thrive despite all that was thrown at them, by me or others! But by that point sweet Sansa I had moved on anyway."

His hand moved over her head down her cheek and neck. Again Sansa shivered trying to move away as Fenris growled, stepping in closer.

"Stop right there!" Petyr said looking up at the direwolf. "You're going to be a good little animal and you're going to let me go! Because if you don't, I'm going to cut her throat. I know you can understand me, and I would rather die with her than allow anyone else to despoil Sansa as Eddard did to Cat!"

Fenris growled, then looked at Sansa whining a little before moving backwards slightly, still more than close enough to jump on Petyr if he tried to get away of course.

Petyr however turned his attention away from Fenris, going back to stroking Sansa's hair in a way that disturbed her greatly. "You, you combine all the attractive features of your mother, with none of the experience that so sullied her, that turned her away for me!" He laughed, leading down again to kiss her hair once more. "I know that this isn't a good way to start wooing you my love, this isn't how I wanted this to go at all, but I believe that you will come to love me as I love you in time."

"Never!" Sansa's said a full body shiver going through her at the very idea of this man touching her. "Never!" She yelled aloud even when he pulled her hair sharply.

Fenris growled again moving in quickly but Petyr glared at the direwolf pressing the dagger hard into Sansa's neck. "Back you unnatural beas-ARGH!"

Edd's spear came out of the dark of the woodlands behind Petyr, taking him in the shoulder of the arm holding the knife to Sansa's throat, cutting the arm off almost entirely. He continued to scream as Sansa scrambled away trying to break the grip his other hand had on her hair then Fenris was on him.

"Seven no it cannoGHH!" Petyr screamed as the direwolf bore him to earth, it's fangs ripping at the arm holding Sansa, tearing it off at the shoulder and allowing Sansa to roll away while the giant beast finished tearing Petyr to shreds. The last thing Petyr saw as his head lulled to one side was Sansa glaring at him with hate in her eyes, visible in the moonlight above.

Edd raced in, nodding at Fenris. "Fenris couldn't you have, I don't know, finished him off before he took Sansa away from us?" As a Wolfsworn Edd understood how smart Fenris was, so addressed him as he would a man.

The giant direwolf huffed at him, fangs barred on one side of his blood-stained muzzle in a gesture as close to a scowl as he could get. Tracking Petyr had been very difficult, and he had almost lost him several times thanks to Petyr staying in towns and exiting with other people or because of heavy rainfall.

Fenris turned to Sansa now, whining slightly and wiping his bloody muzzle on the grass beneath him for a moment before moving over to nuzzle her shoulder. The redheaded pack-mate didn't like messy or bloody things Fenris remembered. But that didn't seem to matter to her now as she nuzzled happily into his shoulder while Edd and Ben untied her, murmuring "Good wolf, good wolf."

OOOOOOO

Timot Hammerhand's back scouts saw Ranma coming from where they had been just about to pull off the Kingsroad and marched towards the Crannogtown. The small army halted quickly while Hammerhand made his way back through the column to meet Ranma. "My Lord? What happened? Where's the rest of the Army?"

"Taking to sea at Maidenpool, but they'll take at least a month and a half to get to White Harbor, we're needed up in the North now! Word reached Riverrun and then was passed down to us that the White Walkers had found a way around the Wall." Ranma replied grimly, gulping down some of his water at the same time.

Hammerhand looked around at the men within earshot, all of whom had stiffened noticeably. "I've been marching the men as close to the pace you normally set us to as we could go my Lord, I don't know if we can speed up any further. But we're nearly to Crannogtown, that should save us at least two, three weeks marching, depending on where in the North you want us to go."

"No." Ranma said with a shake of his head. "I want you to keep marching down the Kingsroad through the Neck. Send a messenger to Crannogtown, I'll give him a message to give to Lord Reed, he should be at Crannogtown waiting for you, and I don't want to stop. He should still take command, but I want you to keep marching up the Kingsroad to Winterfell that way."

"Why don't you want us to take the boats to White Harbor my lord? Surely going by the White Knife would let us cut off at least a week's worth of travel time?" Timot asked.

"Not if the river's frozen, it won't. And I don't want you to use the ships at Crannogtown because there's another army, one from the Vale, coming up behind you about two week's march back. I want those boats still here waiting for them when they get here."

In fact the White Knife had indeed frozen in places by this point, slowing river travel tremendously including the supplies of dragonglass weapons. But it hadn't stopped them just yet, not even those on the Broken Branch. Yet in that case, the men who had been sent with those shipments would find the river had frozen behind them, slowing their return journey to a crawl and forcing the commander to decide to join the defense of Hornwood rather than chance it. When news of Karhold's fall reached them, that choice proved even more correct.

"Very well my Lord we'll keep on going, though if we set the pace we need to stave off disease in the Neck we'll need to rest at Moat Cailin."

"I'll leave that to you and Reed, but keep on going as quickly as you can." Ranma ordered.

"Won't you be waiting for us there?" Timot asked.

Ranma shook his head, already moving off. "No, I'll meet you in Winterfell. I need to get there as fast as possible, and that means going on alone. If Winterfell falls, the North falls with it!"

---

End chapter

To those who wonder, yes, Obara is dead. No way I could let her live, that would be stretching the laws of chance in a combat setting way too much. But with Oberyn gone, the last large enemy force in the south is crushed, leaving Jon, Margaery and Willas to turn their attention to smaller enemies, domestic affairs, and reinforcing the North. Not much happened with Ranma and co. this chapter, travel times being what they are, but that won't be the case in the next chapter. The White Walkers are riding high right now, but they better watch out, the big bad wolf is coming home.

Hope you all enjoyed, and as always, please leave a review.